THE 
MAYFAIR 


7859  MELROSE  AVENUE 
HOLLYWOOD,  CALIF. 


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POPULAR  WORKS  FROM  THE  GERMAN, 

Translated  by  MRS.  A.  L.  WISTER. 


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PHILADELPHIA 

J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

1889 


Copyright,  1889,  by  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — EXPECTED  GUESTS 7 

II. — BARON  KOHRITZ 22 

III.— THE  ARRIVAL 29 

IV.— STELLA 37 

V. — AN  EXPERIMENT      .        .        .  .        .48 

VI. — A  RUINED  LIFE 72 

VII. — A  RAINY  EVENING 95 

VIII. — A  LOVE-AFFAIR 101 

IX.— FOUND 108 

X. — FREDDY'S  BIRTHDAY 117 

XL— CRABBING 124 

XII.— DISASTER 129 

XIII.— IDYLLIC 134 

XIV. — A  DEPARTURE 154 

XV.— SCATTERED 163 

XVI.— ZALOW 166 

XVII.— WINTER 173 

XVIIL— SOPHIE  OBLONSKY    .        .        .        .        .        .178 

XIX.— PARIS 186 

XX. — THERESE  DE  ROHRITZ 197 

XXI. — AN  AUSTRIAN  HOST 205 

XXII. — FRENCH  INFERIORITY 212 

XXIII.— PRINCE  ZINO  CAPITO 216 

XXIV.— A  MUSIC-LESSON 227 

XXV. — A  NEW  ACQUAINTANCE  ?  242 

XXVL— FIVE-O'CLOCK  TEA 249 

XXVII.— A  CHANGE  AT  ERLACH  COURT       .        .        .262 

XXVIII.— A  PARIS  LETTER                                                .  269 


2227055 


6  CONTENTS. 

CJIAPTF.B  PACK 

XXIX. — A  STORM  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES       .        .  277 

XXX. — A  SLEEPLESS  NIGHT 289 

XXXI. — GLOWING  EMBERS 295 

XXXII.— THERESB  THE  WISB 303 

XXXIII.— STELLA'S  FAILURE 311 

XXXIV.— ROHRITZ  DREAMS.        .  .        .        .321 

XXXV. — A  SPRAINED  ANKLE 325 

XXXVI.— LOST  AGAIN 330 

XXXVII.— THE  FANES'  BALL 337 

XXXVIII.— FOUND  AT  LAST    .  351 


- 


BRLAOH    COURT. 


CHAPTER    I. 

EXPECTED   GUESTS. 

ERLACH  COURT, — a  vine-wreathed  castle,  not 
very  imposing,  on  the  Save, — a  pleasant  dining- 
room,  with  wide-open  windows  through  which 
thousands  of  golden  stars  are  seen  twinkling  in 
the  dark  blue  of  a  July  sky,  while  the  air  is  laden 
with  the  fragrance  of  acacia-  and  linden-blossoms. 
Beneath  a  hanging  lamp,  around  a  table  whereon 
are  finger-bowls  and  the  remains  of  a  luxurious 
dessert,  are  grouped  six  persons, — the  master  of 
the  house,  Captain  von  Leskjewitsch,  his  wife,  and 
his  seven-year-old  son  and  heir,  Freddy,  a  Frau- 
lein  von  Gurlichingeu,  whose  acquaintance  Frau 
von  Leskjewitsch  had  made  twenty  years  before 
and  whom  she  had  never  since  been  able  to  shake 
oft*,  and  two  gentlemen,  Baron  Rohritz  and  General 
von  Falk. 

The  general  is  the  same  youthful  veteran  whom 
we  have  all  met  before  in  some  Viennese  drawing- 

7 


8  ERLACH   COURT. 

room  or  in  some  watering-place  in  Bohemia, — ac- 
credited throughout  Austria  from  time  immemorial 
as  excellent  company,  dreaded  as  an  incorrigible 
gossip,  and  notorious  as  a  thorough  idler.  He 
often  boasts  that  in  thirty  years  he  has  never  once 
dined  at  home ;  he  might  add,  nor  at  his  own  ex- 
pense. He  is  never  positively  invited  anywhere, 
but  since  he  has  never  been  turned  out  of  doors  he 
is  met  everywhere.  Absolutely  free  from  preju- 
dice in  his  social  proclivities,  he  is  equally  at  home 
in  aristocratic  society  and  in  the  world  of  finance ; 
in  fact,  he  rather  prefers  the  latter;  the  dinners 
there  are  better,  he  maintains. 

In  spite  of  his  seventy  years,  he  is  still  as  erect 
as  a  fir-tree, — dressed  in  the  most  youthful  style, — 
occasionally,  although  with  a  half-ironical  smile, 
alludes  in  conversation  to  '  us  young  men,'  and 
dances  at  balls  with  the  agility  of  a  boy. 

Baron  Rohritz,  who  is  scarcely  six-and-thirty, 
already  ranks  himself,  on  the  contrary,  for  the 
sake  of  his  personal  ease,  with  the  old  men.  Tall 
and  slender,  with  delicate,  clearly-cut  features, 
he  is  a  remarkably  distinguished  figure,  even  in 
the  circle  to  which  he  belongs.  Although  his 
moustache  is  brown,  his  hair  is  already  very  gray, 
which  women  find  extremely  interesting,  especially 
since  there  is  said  to  be  some  connection  between 
this  premature  change  of  colour  and  an  unfortu- 
nate love-affair.  The  finest  thins:  about  his  face 


EXPECTED   GUESTS.  9 

is  his  deep-set  blue  eyes ;  but  since  he  uses  an  eye- 
glass, is  near-sighted,  and  often  nearly  closes  his 
eyes,  there  is  something  haughty  in  his  look,  which 
produces  a  chilling  effect.  "When  he  smiles  his 
expression  is  very  attractive,  but  he  smiles  only 
rarely,  and  shows  to  the  best  advantage  in  his 
treatment  of  dogs,  horses,  and  children. 

Fraulein  von  Gurlichingen,  commonly  called 
Stasy, — the  diminutive  of  her  baptismal  name, 
Anastasia,  and  a  play  upon  her  perpetual  state  of 
ecstatic  excitement, — is  an  old  maid,  who  was 
once  accounted  a  great  beauty,  and  in  conse- 
quence is  fond  of  wearing  golden  bands  around 
her  romantically  frizzed  curls.  Her  languishing, 
light-blue  eyes  were  once  compared  to  forget-me- 
nots  sprinkled  with  sugar,  and  her  complexion  is 
suggestive  of  Swedish  kid  dusted  with  violet  pow- 
der. She  was  young  twenty  years  since,  and  has 
forgotten  to  stop  being  so.  She  once  nearly  mar- 
ried a  prince  of  the  blood,  and  has  lately  been 
jilted  by  an  v  infantry- officer.  She  has  come  to 
Erlach  Court  to  recover  from  this  last  blow,  per- 
haps in  hopes  of  eventually  obtaining  a  recom- 
pense for  the  loss  of  the  captain. 

Little  Freddy  is  a  very  pretty,  spoiled  child,  in 
a  sailor  suit,  with  bare  legs  very  much  scratched ; 
and  the  master  and  mistress  of  the  house  are 
two  genial  people,  who  eight  years  previously, 
both  having  outlived  the  bloom  of  their  early 


10  ERLACU  COURT. 

illusions,  although  she  was  only  six-and-twenty 
and  the  captain  thirty,  had  "patched  together  their 
tattered  lives,"  which  means  that  they  had  married 
each  other,  not  so  much  in  the  hope  of  being 
happy  themselves,  as  in  that  of  making  two  other 
fellow-beings  miserable. 

Although,  however,  they  had  thus  married  for 
pique,  and  though  each  had  brought  to  the  union 
nothing  save  a  remnant  of  unfortunate  love  for 
somebody  else,  although  they  quarrelled  with  each 
other  continually,  they  got  along  together  not 
much  worse  than  two-thirds  of  the  married  people 
whose  union  has  been  the  result  of  passionate  at- 
tachment. 

All  were  waiting  for  the  after-dinner  coffee, 
which  the  mistress  of  the  mansion,  in  dread  of 
spots,  never  allowed  to  be  served  in  the  drawing- 
room,  except  on  state  occasions.  Its  appearance 
was  unpardonably  delayed  to-day,  and  the  famous 
Erlach  Court  sociability  was  beginning  to  degen- 
erate into  yawning  ennui. 

With  the  exception  of  Baron  Rohritz,  who  had 
been  occupied  the  entire  time  in  gazing  with  half- 
closed  eyes  into  the  clouds  of  blue  smoke  from  his 
cigar,  all  present  had  done  their  best  to  enliven  the 
prevailing  mood :  the  general  had  told  anecdotes 
from  the  'Fliegende  Blatter,'  Freddy  had  suc- 
ceeded in  producing  a  particularly  charming  noise 
by  running  a  wet  forefinger  around  the  rims  of 


EXPECTED   GUESTS.  H 

various  wineglasses,  Fraulein  Stasy  had  suggested 
a  poetic  comparison  between  dry  storms  and  the 
tearless  anguish  of  a  stricken  heart,  and  the  mar- 
ried pair  had  squabbled  with  special  earnestness 
about  the  most  diverse  matters,  first  about  the 
potato-rot,  then  about  a  problematical  constitution 
for  Poland ;  and  yet  the  conversation  had  failed  to 
become  fluent. 

For  a  few  minutes  an  oppressive  silence  had 
prevailed;  the  husband  and  wife,  usually  equal 
to  any  emergency  in  this  direction,  had  ceased 
even  to  quarrel.  The  ticking  of  the  watches  was 
almost  audible,  when  the  servant  brought  in  on  a 
salver  the  contents  of  the  post-bag  which  had  just 
arrived. 

"While  the  captain  hastily  opened  a  newspaper, 
that  he  might  read  aloud  to  the  nervous  Stasy, 
with  a  harrowing  attention  to  details,  the  latest 
cholera  bulletins,  Frau  von-  Leskjewitsch  leisurely 
opened  two  letters :  the  first  came  from  a  Trieste 
tradesman  and  announced  the  arrival  of  a  late  in- 
voice of  the  best  disinfectants,  the  second  appar- 
ently contained  intelligence  of  some  importance. 
After  she  had  read  it,  Frau  von  Leskjewitsch  laid 
it,  with  a  pleased  expression,  upon  the  table. 

"  Children,"  she  exclaimed, — it  was  a  habit  of 
hers  thus  to  apostrophize  people  well  on  in  years, 
for,  except  Freddy,  who  was  not  yet  eight,  and  the 
general,  who  dyed  his  hair,  all  present  were  more 


12  ERLACH  COURT, 

or  less  gray-headed, — "  children,  our  circle  is  about 
to  receive  an  addition;  my  sister-in-law  has  just 
written  me  that  she  accepts  our  invitation  and  will 
arrive  here  to-morrow  or  the  day  after." 

"Bravo!"  exclaimed  the  captain,  who  on  hear- 
ing this  news  quite  forgot  to  go  on  teasing  Stasy, 
and  suppressed  three  entire  cholera-telegrams.  "  I 
shall  be  delighted  to  see  my  little  niece." 

Freddy  said,  meditatively, "  I  should  like  to  know 
what  my  aunt  will  bring  me." 

The  rest  of  the  party  received  the  joyful  tidings 
without  emotion,  partly  because  the  long-looked-for 
coffee  at  that  .moment  made  its  appearance,  and 
partly  because  of  the  other  three  Stasy  alone  had 
any  personal  acquaintance  with  the  Baroness  Mei- 
neck — as  the  captain's  sister  was  called — or  her 
daughter.  After  the  coffee  had  been  cleared  away, 
and  whilst  the  master  and  mistress  of  the  house 
were  arguing  outside  in  the  corridor,  most  uselessly 
and  most  energetically,  as  to  the  train  by  which  the 
expected  guests  would  arrive,  the  general,  who  was 
playing  his  usual  evening  game  of  tric-trac  with 
Rohritz,  sighed, — 

"  Our  comfort  is  all  over." 

Rohritz  raised  his  eyebrows  inquiringly :  "  Do 
you  mean  that  in  honour  of  these  fresh  guests  we 
shall  be  obliged  to  put  on  a  dress-coat  at  dinner 
every  day  ?" 

"  Not  exactly  that,"  said  the  general ;  "  the  ladies 


EXPECTED  GUESTS.  13 

themselves  are  not  too  much  given  to  elegance; 
but" — the  general's  face  lengthened — "  we  shall  be 
obliged  to  be  cautious  in  our  conversation." 

Rohritz  smiled  significantly.  "Double  sixes!" 
he  exclaimed,  throwing  the  dice  on  the  green  cloth 
and  moving  his  men  with  cunning  calculation  on 
the  backgammon-board. 

Meanwhile,  the  garrulous  general  continued, 
without  waiting  to  be  questioned :  "  Leskjewitsch 
is  patient  with  his  sister,  and  is  excessively  fond 
of  his  niece,  but,  between  ourselves," — he  chuckled 
to  himself, — "  Leskjewitsch  is  a  fool !" 

If  anything  gave  him  more  satisfaction  than  to 
live  at  the  expense  of  others,  it  was  to  be  witty, 
or  rather  malicious,  at  their  expense.  Rohritz 
thought  this  bad  form,  and  was  silent. 

"  I  do  not  know  the  ladies  personally,"  the  general 
went  on,  rubbing  his  hands,  "  but  for  originality" — 
here  he  tapped  his  forehead  with  his  forefinger — 
"  neither  mother  nor  daughter  is  far  behind  the 
captain.  The  mother  is  an  old  blue-stocking,  and 
has  been  travelling  all  over  the  world  for  the  last 
ten  years,  collecting  materials  for  an  historical  work 
upon  the  Medicines,  or  whatever  you  choose  to  call 
them " 

"  The  Medici,  perhaps  ?"  Rohritz  interpolated. 

"Very  likely;  I  only  know  that  there  was  an 
apothecary  in  the  family,  and  that  there  were  pills 
in  their  scutcheon,  and  that  the  worthy  Baroness's 

2 


14  ERLACH  COURT. 

work  is  to  be  eight  volumes  long,"  said  the  gen- 
eral. 

Stasy,  who  had  been  leaning  back  in  a  luxurious 
arm-chair,  moved  to  tears  for  the  hundredth  time 
over  the  last  chapter  of  '  Paul  and  Virginia,'  her 
favourite  book, — the  death  of  the  heroine,  she  said, 
touched  her  especially  because  she  could  so  easily 
fancy  herself  in  Virginia's  place, — now  laid  her 
book  aside,  since  her  tears  seemed  to  arouse  no 
sympathy,  and  joined  in  the  conversation  : 

"  You  are  talking  of  the  Meinecks  ?" 

"  Yes.  Are  you  personally  acquainted  with  the 
ladies  ?"  asked  the  general. 

"  Yes, — not  very  intimately,  though.  I  always 
held  myself  a  little  aloof  from  them,  but  last  sum- 
mer we  were  at  the  same  country  resort, — I  was 
with  a  sick  friend  at  Zalow, — and  I  saw  something 
and  heard  a  great  deal  of  the  Meinecks." 

"  And  are  all  the  strange  things  that  are  said  of 
them  true  ?"  asked  the  general. 

"I  really  do  not  know  what  is  said  of  them," 
replied  Stasy,  "  but  it  certainly  would  be  difficult  to 
exaggerate  their  peculiarities.  The  Baroness,  un- 
fortunately too  late  in  life,  has  arrived  at  the  con- 
clusion that  the  continuance  of  the  human  species 
is  a  crime.  One  of  her  manias  consists  in  giving 
ft  tort  et  d,  trovers,  wherever  she  may  chance  to  be, 
short  lectures,  gratis,  upon  the  American  Shakers 
and  their  system.  But,  with  all  her  zeal,  she  has 


EXPECTED   GUESTS.  15 

hitherto  succeeded  in  making  but  few  proselytes. 
Even  her  elder  daughter,  who  was  for  some  years 
a  fanatical  adherent  of  her  mother's  doctrines,  lately 
married  an  artillery-officer.  Stella,  the  younger 
sister,  whose  acquaintance  you  are  to  make,  dis- 
likes having  a  brother-in-law  in  the  artillery.  The 
Baroness's  distaste  was  not  for  the  quality  of  her 
son-in-law,  but  for  marriage  itself.  She  appeared 
at  the  wedding  in  deep  mourning,  and  but  for  the 
remonstrances  of  her  relatives  the  invitations  to  the 
ceremony  would  have  been  engraved  upon  black- 
edged  paper,  like  notices  of  a  funeral." 

"  Ah  !  And  the  second  daughter, — hm — I  mean 
the  one  expected  here  ?" 

"  She  will  riot  hear  of  marriage,  and  is  studying 
for  the  stage." 

"  Indeed  ?"  said  Baron  Rohritz. 

The  general  moved  a  little  nearer  him,  and,  with 
a  mischievous  twinkle  of  his  green  eyes,  whispered, 
"Between  ourselves,  I  would  not  trust  any  girl 
under  sixty — he-he-he ! — in  the  matter  of  marriage. 
This  Stella  is  hardly  an  exception ;  she  probably 
imagines  she  can  make  a  very  good  match  from 
the  stage — he-he !" 

Rohritz  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

Stasy  continued :  "  I  really  am  sorry  for  Stella : 
under  other  circumstances  she  might  have  been 
very  nice,  but  as  it  is  she  is  dreadful.  Two  years 
ago  she  had  a  craze  for  horsemanship :  she  used  to 


16  ERLACH  COURT. 

tear  about  for  hours  every  day  upon  an  English 
blood-horse  which  she  had  bought  for  a  mere  song 
because  it  was  blind  of  one  eye.  Since  the  Meineck 
finances  did  not,  of  course,  warrant  a  groom,  and 
the  Meineck  arrogance  could  not  accept  the  at- 
tendance of  any  one  of  the  young  men  of  the 
place, — and  I  know  from  the  best  authority  that 
several  kindly  offered  themselves  as  her  escort, — 
she  rode  alone,  and  in  a  habit — good  heavens ! — 
patched  up  by  herself  out  of  an  old  blue  cloth 
sofa-covering, — just  fancy !  One  day  the  Baroness 
was  more  than  commonly  in  need  of  money, — 
perhaps  to  publish  a  new  volume  of  history  or  to 
repair  a  tumble-down  chimney, — who  knows  ? — at 
all  events  the  horse  was  sold  to  a  farmer  in  the 
neighbourhood.  Stella  cried  for  a  week  over  her 
loss.  Now  the  horse  is  quite  blind,  and  draws 
an  ash-cart;  and  when  the  little  goose  sees  him 
she  kisses  his  forehead." 

"  Ah !  besoin  d'aimer  /"  chuckled  the  general. 
"  Hm— hm !" 

"  Three  times  a  week  she  goes  to  Prague, — of 
course  without  any  chaperon, — and  takes  singing- 
lessons  from  a  long-haired  music-master  who  pre- 
dicts for  her  a  career  like  Alboni's.  Heaven  knows 
what  will  be  the  end  of  it.  The  Meineck  tem- 
perament is  sure  sooner  or  later  to  show  itself 
in  the  child.  Her  father's  mode  of  life  scanda- 
lized even  his  comrades,  and  her  aunt surely 


EXPECTED   QUESTS.  17 

you  know  about  Eugenie  von  Meineck,  the  captain's 
old  flame " 

She  stopped  short,  for  at  this  moment  the  cap- 
tain himself  entered  the  room,  and,  turning  to 
Rohritz,  said,  "  I'm  glad,  old  fellow,  that  your 
stay  in  Erlach  Court  is  to  be  brightened  up  a 
little." 

"  I  assure  you  that  no  change  is  needed  to  make 
my  visit  to  you  most  agreeable,"  Rohritz  rejoined, 
courteously. 

The  captain  bowed:  " Nevertheless  you  cannot 
deny  that  your  pleasure  may  be  increased,  and  you 
are  still  young  enough  to  enjoy  the  society  of  a 
pretty  and  clever  girl." 

Rohritz  bit  his  lip ;  he  had  a  very  decided, 
although  quite  excusable,  dislike  for  what  are 
called  clever  young  women.  Stasy  turned  up  her 
nose. 

"  Do  you  think  the  little  Meineck  clever — mais 
vraiment  clever,  spirituelle  ?"  she  asked. 

"  She  is  full  of  bright,  merry  ideas,  and  what  a 
pretty  girl  says  is  apt  to  sound  well,"  the  captain 
replied,  dryly. 

"Do  you  think  her  pretty?"  Stasy  drawled;  she 
never  could  make  up  her  mind  to  call  any  girl 
pretty. 

"Pretty?  She  is  charming,  bewitching!"  the 
captain  declared,  in  an  angry  crescendo. 

Just  then  his  wife  appeared,  much  provoked 
b  2* 


18  ERLACH  COURT. 

at  some  particularly  shocking  misdeed  on  the  part 
of  the  maid  to  whom  had  been  intrusted  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  guest-chambers,  and  she  asked, 
"  What  is  the  matter  ?" 

"  A  difference  of  opinion  with  regard  to  your 
niece  Stella,  Katrine  dear,"  Anastasia  said,  sweetly, 
leaning  back  with  a  languishing  air  among  the 
cushions  of  her  arm-chair  and  touching  her  finger- 
tips together.  "  Your  husband  thinks  her  so  very 
beautiful." 

"  Oh,  my  husband  always  exaggerates,"  Frau 
von  Leskjewitsch  remarks. 

"  I  never  said '  very  beautiful ;  I  did  not  even 
say  beautiful :  I  simply  said  charming,"  the  captain 
shouts. 

"  She  is  pretty.  There  is  something  very  attrac- 
tive about  her-,"  his  wife  assents,  "  and  my  hus- 
band finds  her  especially  charming  because  she 
looks  like  his  old  flame,  Eugenie  Meineck.  For 
my  part,  this  resemblance  is  the  only  thing  about 
Stella  that  I  do  not  like.  I  am  sorry  that  even  in 
her  features  alone  she  should  remind  one  of  her 
aunt." 

"  A  rather  indelicate  allusion  on  your  part," 
growls  the  captain,  whose  brown  cheeks  had 
flushed  at  his  wife's  words. 

As  his  wife  always  declared,  he  had  never  got 
out  of  roundabouts,  which  suited  him  but  ill,  for 
he  was  an  unusually  tall,  broad-shouldered  man, 


EXPECTED   QUESTS.  19 

with  very  handsome,  clear-cut  features,  and  a  face 
tanned  and  worn  by  war,  wind  and  weather,  but 
recognizable  as  far  as  it  could  be  seen  as  that  of  a 
southern  Slav. 

"  Extremely  indelicate,"  he  repeats,  with  em- 
phasis. 

"  I  think  it  ridiculous  never  to  outlive  disap- 
pointments," says  Frau  von  Leskjewitsch,  who 
ever  since  she  was  a  girl  of  eighteen  had  assumed 
the  air  of  a  matron  of  vast  worldly  experience, 
— "  extremely  ridiculous,"  she  adds,  with  comic 
mimicry  of  her  husband's  reproachful  intonation. 
As  she  spoke  she  slightly  threw  back  her  head 
crowned  with  luxuriant  hair  gathered  into  a  sim- 
ple knot  behind,  half  closed  her  eyes,  and  stuck  one 
thumb  in  the  buff  leather  belt  that  confined  her 
dark-blue  linen  blouse  at  the  waist.  Baron 
Rohritz,  an  experienced  connoisseur  of  the  female 
sex,  had  stuck  his  eye-glass  in  his  eye,  and  was 
gazing  at  her  without  a  shadow  of  impertinent  ob- 
trusiveness,  but  with  very  evident  interest.  With- 
out being  handsome,  or  taking  the  slightest  pains 
to  appear  so,  she  nevertheless  produced  a  most 
agreeable  impression.  According  to  the  Baron's 
computation,  she  was  about  thirty-four  years  old, 
and  yet  her  tall  slender  figure  had  all  the  pliancy 
of  early  youth.  Her  every  motion  was  character- 
ized by  a  certain  energy  and  determination  that  pos- 
sessed an  attraction  in  spite  of  being  foreign  to  the 


20  ERLACH  COURT. 

generally  received  opinion  as  to  what  constitutes 
feminine  grace.  The  eyes,  shadowed  by  long 
black  lashes,  that  looked  forth  from  her  pale,  oval 
face  were  full  of  intelligence  and  constantly  vary- 
ing expression,  her  features  were  fine  but  not  regu- 
lar, and  her  laugh  was  charming. 

"Yes,"  she  repeated,  "I  insist  upon  it,  there  is 
nothing  more  ridiculous  than  the  inability  to  have 
done  with  one's  disappointments.  Good  heavens! 
I  freely  confess  to  myself,  and  to  the  world  at  large, 
that  the  worthy  man  with  whom  I  was  wretchedly 
in  love  for  four  years  was  one  of  the  vainest,  most 
insignificant,  most  egotistical  and  uninteresting 
geese  that  ever  lived." 

"  You  were  not  in  love  with  him,"  declared  the 
captain,  who  did  not  seem  to  be  quite  free  from  a 
certain  retrospective  jealousy.  "You  were  simply 
under  the  domination  of  an  idee  fixe" 

"  As  if  the  passion  of  love  were  ever  anything 
save  an  idee  fixe  of  the  heart !"  retorted  Frau  von 
Leskjewitsch  ;  "  and  an  idee  fixe  is  a  disease ;  while 
it  lasts  it  is  well  to  be  patient  with  it,  but  when  it 
is  over  one  ought  to  thank  God  and  get  rid  of  the 
traces  of  it  as  quickly  as  possible.  That  you  never 
did,  Jack:  you  were  always  like  the  belles  of  so- 
ciety, who  cannot  make  up  their  minds  to  burn 
up  their  old  ball-dresses  and  other  trophies  or 
simply  to  throw  them  away.  They  stun0  their 
trunks  full  of  such  rubbish,  until  there  is  no  room 


EXPECTED   QUESTS.  21 

left  for  their  honest  every-day  clothes.  Throw  it 
away,  and  the  sooner  the  better!" 

"  What  has  once  been  dear  to  me  is  forever 
sacred  in  my  eyes,"  said  the  captain,  solemnly. 

"  Yes,  and  consequently  you  drag  about  with 
you  through  life  such  a  heap  of  old,  dusty,  bat- 
tered illusions  that  I  really  cannot  see  where  you 
find  the  strength  to  hold  fast  to  one  healthy  vital 
sensation.  Bah  !  painful  as  it  is,  one  must  bury 
one's  dead  in  time!" 

"  I  prefer  to  embalm  mine,"  the  captain  rejoined, 
with  dignity. 

"  Let  me  congratulate  you  upon  your  collection 
of  mummies,"  said  his  wife. 

"  You  have  no  Capacity  for  veneration,"  the  cap- 
tain declared. 

"Because  I  disapprove  of  whining  ad  infinitum 
as  homage  to  a  vanished  enthusiasm, — ridiculous !" 
said  Katrine. 

"  Don't  quarrel,  my  doves !"  Stasy  entreated, 
clasping  her  hands  after  a  child-like  fashion. 

""We  have  no  idea  of  doing  so,"  the  mistress 
of  the  house  replied,  good-humouredly.  "We 
never  quarrel.  Our  complaint  is  a  chronic  differ- 
ence of  opinion.  What  were  we  really  talking 
about  ?" 

"  About  illusions,"  remarked  Baron  Eohritz. 

"  Oh,  that  was  merely  a  side-issue, — only  an 
after-piece,"  said  Frau  von  Leskjewitsch,  bethink- 


22  ERLACH  COURT. 

ing  herself.  "  What  was  the  starting-point  of  our 
discussion  ? — Oh,  yes :  we  were  speaking  of  my 
little  niece." 

"  Perhaps  you  can  show  us  a  photograph  of  her," 
said  Anastasia. 

"Yes,  yes."  And  Frau  von  Leskjewitsch  be- 
gan an  eager  search  in  a  small  gilt  cottage  which 
had  once  been  a  bonbonniere  and  now  served  as  a 
receptacle  for  photographs.  In  vain.  Upon  a 
closer  examination  several  of  the  photographs 
were  found  to  be  missing.  Little  Freddy  con- 
fessed with  a  repentant  face  that  he  had  cut  them 
up  to  make  winders  for  twine.  His  mother 
laughed,  kissed  his  sleepy,  troubled  eyes,  and  sent 
him  to  bed.  Thus  Baron  Rohritz  was  left  to  draw 
from  fancy  a  possible  likeness  of  Stella  Meineck. 


CHAPTER   II. 

BARON   ROHRITZ. 

STASY  had  vented  so  much  malice  upon  Stella 
that  Rohritz  had  involuntarily  begun  to  think  well 
of  her.  After  he  had  retired,  in  the  watches  of  the 
night,  and  was  trying  in  vain  to  be  interested  in  a 
volume  of  Tauchnitz,  his  thoughts  were  still  busied 


BARON  ROHR1TZ.  23 

with  her.  "  Poor  thing,"  he  reflected,  "  there  must 
be  something  attractive  about  her,  or  Les  and  his 
wife  would  not  be  so  devoted  to  her.  And,  after 
all,  what  did  that  venomous  old  maid's  accusations 
amount  to? — that  she  has  an  antipathy  for  artil- 
lery-officers,"— Rohritz  as  a  former  cavalry-man 
shrugged  his  shoulders  indulgently  at  this  weak- 
ness,— "  and  that  she  wants  to  go  upon  the  stage. 
That,  to  be  sure,  is  bad.  I  know  nothing  in  the 
world  more  repulsive  than  girls  of  what  are  called 
the  better  classes  who  are  studying  for  the  stage." 

And  Rohritz  recalled  a  certain  officer's  daughter 
whom  he  had  once  met  at  an  evening  entertain- 
ment, and  who  in  proof  of  her  distinguished  talent 
had  declaimed  various  '  selections.'  He  had  been 
quite  unable  to  detect  her  talent,  and  had  spoken 
of  her  contemptuously  as  an  hysterical  tree-frog. 
The  appellation  had  met  with  acceptance  and  had 
been  frequently  repeated. 

The  remembrance  of  the  officer's  bony  daugh- 
ter lay  heavy  on  his  soul.  "Yes,  if  Stella  should 
remind  me  in  the  least  of  that  hysterical  tree-frog, 
I  really  could  not  stay  here  much  longer,"  he 
thought,  with  a  shudder.  "  And  in  any  case  I 
cannot  but  regret  these  last  pleasant  days.  That 
old  dandy  and  the  faded  beauty  were  bad  enough, 
but  they  could  be  ignored ;  while  a  young  girl — 

and  a  relative,  too,  of  the  family Pshaw !  at 

all  events  I  can  take  my  leave." 


24  ERLACH  COURT. 

With  which  he  put  out  his  candle  and  went  to 
bed. 

What  it  was  that  was  dear  to  him  in  the  sleepy 
and  very  uninteresting  life  at  Erlach  Court  it 
would  be  difficult  to  say.  Perhaps  he  prized  it  as 
chiming  in  so  admirably  with  the  precious  ennui 
which  he  had  brought  home  from  America  ten 
years  previously,  and  which  had  since  been  his  in- 
separable companion.  It  was  such  a  finished,  ele- 
gant ennui;  it  never  yawned  and  looked  about  for 
amusement,  never  in  fact  felt  the  least  desire  for 
it,  but  looked  down  in  self-satisfied  superiority 
upon  those  childish  mortals  who  were  actually 
capable  of  being  irritated  or  entertained  upon  this 
old  exhausted  globe. 

He  was  proud  of  this  kind  of  moral  ossification, 
which  was  gradually  paralyzing  all  his  really  noble 
qualities. 

"  'Tis  a  pity !"  said  Leskjewitsch,  whose  youth 
was  still  warm  in  his  veins,  and  who  declared  that 
he  had  never  been  bored  for  half  an  hour  in  his 
life,  except  upon  a  pitch-dark  night  in  winter  at 
some  lonely  outpost  when  he  had  been  delayed  on 
the  march ;  and  although  the  honest  captain  was  a 
demi-savage  and  "  still  in  roundabouts,"  we  can- 
not help  repeating  his  words  with  reference  to 
Rohritz,  "  'Tis  a  pity  !" 

Yes,  a  pity !  Who  that  saw  Edgar  von  Rohritz 
— his  mother  had  bestowed  upon  him  his  melo- 


BARON  ROHRITZ.  25 

dramatic  name  in  a  fit  of  enthusiasm  for  "Walter 
Scott  and  Donizetti, — who  that  saw  him  to-day 
could  believe  that  in  his  youth,  under  a  thin  dis- 
guise of  aristocratic  nonchalance,  he  was  far  more 
sentimentally  inclined  than  his  former  comrade 
Leskjewitsch  ?  But  sentiment  had  fared  ill  with 
him.  After  having  overcome,  not  without  a  hard 
struggle,  the  pain  of  a  very  hitter  disappointment, 
his  demands  upon  existence  were  of  the  most 
moderate  description,  and  this  partly  to  spare  him- 
self useless  pain  and  partly  from  caution  lest 
he  should  make  himself  ridiculous.  He  kept  his 
heart  closely  shut;  and  if  at  times  sentiment,  now 
fallen  into  disgrace  with  him,  softly  appealed  to  it, 
entreating  admission,  he  refused  to  listen.  He  was 
no  longer  at  home  for  sentiment. 

About  twenty  years  since  he  had  begun  his  mili- 
tary career  in  the  same  regiment  of  dragoons 
with  Jack  Leskjewitsch,  and  when  hardly  five-and- 
twenty  he  had  left  the  service  and  travelled  round 
the  world,  perhaps  because  change  of  air  is  as 
beneficial  for  diseases  of  the  heart  as  for  other 
maladies. 

For  years  now  he  had  made  his  home  in  Gratz, 
whence  he  took  frequent  flights  to  Vienna.  He 
was  but  moderately  addicted  to  society,  so  called. 
He  never  danced ;  at  balls  he  played  whist,  and 
dryly  criticised  the  figures  and  the  toilettes  of  the 
dancers.  He  had  the  reputation  of  being  a 

B  3 


26  ERLACH  COURT. 

woman-hater,  and  accordingly  all  the  young  mar- 
ried women  thought  him  excessively  interesting. 
He  was  held  to  be  one  of  the  best  matches  in 
Gratz,  wherefore  he  was  exposed  to  persecution 
by  all  mothers  blest  with  marriageable  daughters. 

Wearied  of  this  varied  homage,  he  had  gradu- 
ally withdrawn  from  society,  and  had  even  re- 
linquished his  game  of  Boston,  when  one  day  a 
report  was  circulated  that  he  had  suddenly  lost  al- 
most all  his  property  through  the  negligence  of  an 
agent.  All  that  was  left  him — so  it  was  said — was 
a  mere  pittance.  Since  he  never  contradicted 
this  report,  it  was  thought  to  be  confirmed.  The 
mothers  of  marriageable  daughters  discovered  that 
he  had  a  disagreeable  disposition,  and  that  it 
would  be  very  difficult  to  live  with  him.  One 
week  after  this  sad  report  had  been  in  circulation, 
he  observed  with  a  peculiar  smile  that  during  this 
space  of  time  he  had  received  at  least  half  a  dozen 
fewer  invitations  to  dinners  and  balls  than  usual. 
Shortly  afterwards  meeting  a  friend  in  the  street 
who  offered  him  his  sincere  condolence,  he  replied, 
with  a  twirl  of  his  moustache, — 

"Do  not, trouble  yourself  about  me:  I  assure 
you  that  it  is  sometimes  very  comfortable  to  be 
poor!" 

The  news  of  his  sadly-altered  circumstances  pen- 
etrated even  to  the  secluded  Erlach  Court,  and 
Captain  Leskjewitsch,  who  learned  it  from  a  casual 


BARON  ROHRITZ.  27 

mention  of  it  in  a  postscript  to  a  letter  from  a 
comrade,  was  exceedingly  agitated  by  it.  He  ran 
to  his  wife  with  the  open  letter  in  his  hand,  ex- 
claiming, "  Ah  ga,  Katrine,  read  that.  Rohritz 
has  lost  every  penny !  Under  such  circumstances 
he  must  need  entire  change  of  scene  for  a  time. 
We  must  invite  him  here  immediately, — imme- 
diately,— that  is,  if  you  have  no  objection." 

For  a  wonder,  the  quarrelsome  couple  were  per- 
fectly at  one  on  this  point. 

"  I  shall  be  delighted  to  see  him,"  replied  Katrine. 
"  Invite  him  at  once ;  that  is,  if  you  are  not  afraid 
of  his  making  love  to  me." 

The  captain's  face  took  on  an  odd  expression. 
"  There  is  no  danger  of  your  allowing  a  stranger 
to  make  love  to  you,"  he  muttered.  "  Your  dis- 
agreeable characteristic  is  that  you  will  not  allow 
even  me  to  make  love  to  you." 

Katrine  raised  her  eyebrows :  "  I  have  an  aver- 
sion for  rechauffees." 

The  captain  took  instant  advantage  of  his  oppor- 
tunity :  "  You  certainly  cannot  expect  to  be  the 
first  woman  who  I — hm! — thought  had  fine  eyes?" 

But  Katrine  was  very  busy  with  her  household 
accounts,  and  consequently  she  had  no  time  at 
present  to  indulge  in  her  favourite  amusement,  a 
lively  discussion. 

"Don't  agitate  yourself,  my  dear,"  she  rejoined, 
"but  go  and  write  a  beautiful  letter  to  Rohritz; 


28  ERLACH  COURT. 

and  do  it  quickly,  that  it  may  go  by  to-day's  post. 
Shall  I  compose  it  for  you  ?" 

"  Thanks,  I  think  I  am  equal  to  that  myself," 
the  captain  replied,  with  a  laugh.  "  Upon  my 
word,  a  poor  dragoon  has  to  put  up  with  a  deal 
from  so  cultivated  a  woman." 

As  he  turned  to  go,  Katrine  called  after  him: 
"I  warn  you  beforehand  that  I  have  a  weakness 
for  Rohritz.  All  the  rest  is  your  affair.  I  wash 
my  hands  of  it." 

Nothing  so  aroused  Katrine  Leskjewitsch's  sar- 
casm as  the  problematical  conscientiousness  of 
those  young  wives  who  combine  a  decided  love  for 
flirtation  with  a  determination  to  cast  all  the  blame 
for  it  upon  their  husbands,  posing  in  the  eyes  of 
the  world  as  suffering  angels  at  the  side  of  black- 
hearted monsters.  Her  ridicule  of  such  women 
was  sharp  and  plentiful. 

"  A  deuce  of  a  woman  !"  the  captain  murmured 
as  he  betook  himself  to  his  library  and — rare  effort 
for  a  dragoon — indited  a  letter  four  pages  long  to 
his  old  comrade. 

His  friend's  epistle,  strange  to  say,  touched  Roh- 
ritz.  It  was  so  cordial,  so  frank,  and  so  warmly 
sympathetic,  such  a  contrast  to  the  formal  assur- 
ances of  sympathy  which  he  met  with  elsewhere, 
that  he  accepted  the  invitation  extended  to  him, 
and  made  his  appearance  at  Erlach  Court  a  week 
afterwards. 


THE  ARRIVAL.  29 

He  had  been  here  now  for  three  weeks,  and  had 
been  really  content,  especially  during  the  early 
period  of  his  visit,  when  he  had  been  alone  with 
his  host  and  hostess.  The  arrival  of  the  general 
and  Sti-sy  had  somewhat  annoyed  him,  and  the 
news  of  the  approach  of  another  detachment  of 
guests — consisting,  moreover,  of  a  mother  and 
daughter — positively  irritated  him.  Good  heavens! 
another  mother,  another  daughter!  Was  there 
then  no  spot  upon  the  face  of  the  globe  where  one 
could  be  safe  from  mothers  and  daughters  ? 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE   ARRIVAL. 

A  TELEGRAM  had  finally  announced  the  arrival 
of  the  Meiuecks  by  the  10.30  morning  train  at 
H ,  the  nearest  railroad-station,  tolerably  dis- 
tant from  Erlach  Court. 

It  is  almost  noon ;  the  captain  and  Freddy  have 
driven  over  to  the  station  to  meet  the  guests,  and 
the  rest  of  the  family  are  on  the  terrace  outside 
of  the  dining-room.  The  hostess,  dressed  as  usual 
with  puritanic  simplicity  in  some  kind  of  dark 
linen  stuff,  deliciously  fresh  and  smelling  of  lav- 
ender, is  leaning  back  iii  a  garden-chair,  diligently 

3* 


30  ERLACH  COURT. 

crochetting  a  red-and- white  afghan  for  her  little 
son's  bed.  The  general,  in  a  very  youthful  felt 
hat  adorned  with  a  feather,  is  chuckling  in  a 
corner  over  a  novel  of  Zola's.  Anastasia  is  flut- 
tering gracefully  hither  and  thither,  fancying  the 
while  that  she  looks  like  a  Watteau.  In  pur- 
suance of  her  lamentable  custom  of  wearing  her 
shabby  old  evening-gowns  in  the  country  in  the 
daytime,  she  has  donned  a  much-worn  sky-blue 
silk  with  dilapidated  tulle  trimming,  and  is  sur- 
prised that  her  faded  splendour  appears  to  fail  to 
dazzle  those  present. 

"  Life  is  pleasant  here,  is  it  not  ?"  asks  Katrine, 
looking  up  from  her  crochetting  at  llohritz,  who 
faces  her  as  he  leans  against  the  balustrade  of 
the  terrace.  "  I  am  trying  ray  best  to  induce  my 
husband  to  leave  the  service  and  retire  to  this 
place.  He  is  still  hesitating." 

"  Hm  !  Do  you  not  think  that  for  a  man  of  his 
temperament  existence  at  Erlach  Court  would  be 
a  trifle  monotonous  ?"  is  Rohritz's  reply. 

"He  can  occupy  himself,"  Katrine  makes  an- 
swer, shrugging  her  shoulders. 

"  If  I  mistake  not,  you  have  rented  the  farm  at 
Erlach  Court  ?" 

"  Yes,  thank  heaven !"  Frau  von  Leskjewitsch 
admits,  with  a  smile.  "  Farming  is  usually  a  very 
costly  taste  for  dilettanti.  But  he  has  entire  con- 
trol over  the  forests  and  the  vineyards ;  they  would 


THE  ARRIVAL.  31 

give  him  plenty  to  do ;  and  then  he  is  an  enthusi- 
astic horseman,  and  the  roads  are  very  fine." 

Rohritz  is  silent,  and  thoughtfully  knocks  off 
the  ashes  from  his  cigar  with  the  long  nail  of  his 
little  finger.  He  cannot  help  thinking  that  Katrine 
Leskjewitsch,  exemplary  as  she  may  be  as  a  mother, 
has  her  faults  as  a  wife.  Jack  Leskjewitsch  is  not 
yet  eight-and-thirty,  and  she  is  prescribing  for  him 
a  life  suited  to  a  man  of  sixty. 

"It  }<3  certainly  a  pity  to  cut  short  his  career," 
Rohritz  remarks,  after  a  while,  "  especially  since 
he  passed  so  brilliant  an  examination  for  advanced 
rank  last  year." 

"Yes,  his  talent  is  indubitable,"  Katrine  assents: 
"  one  would  hardly  think  it  of  him.  He  devotes 
but  little  attention  to  study,  as  I  can  testify,  and 
I  certainly  did  not  coach  him,  as  did  the  wife 
of  an  unfortunate  captain  who  passed  the  same 
examination."  The  corners  of  Katrine's  mouth 
twitched.  "What  do  you  think  was  the  end  of  the 
united  efforts  of  husband  and  wife  ?  Two  weeks 
after  barely  and  laboriously  passing  his  examina- 
tion the  worthy  man  was  a  maniac.  In  fact,  no 
fewer  than  seven  of  my  husband's  fellow-students 
in  that  course  lost  their  reason.  'Tis  odd  how 
much  ambitious  incapacity  one  encounters  in  this 
world !  Jack  does  not  belong  in  that  category, 
however.  He  adores  the  service,  but  he  has  not- a 
particle  of  ambition." 


32  ERLACH  COURT. 

All  this  is  uttered  with  a  seemingly  woful  lack 
of  interest. 

"  'Tis  a  pity  that  she  does  not  sympathize  more 
fully  with  Les,"  Rohritz  thinks  to  himself;  but 
all  he  says  is,  "  And  yet  you  would  have  him  re- 
linquish his  career  ?" 

"A  cavalry-man  who  looks  forward  to  a  career 
ought  not  to  marry,"  Katrine  maintains.  "  Proba- 
bly you  can  recall  the  delights  of  a  military, 
nomadic  existence  for  a  family,  particularly  in 
those  holes  in  Hungary.  Such  hovels! — a  stagnant 
swamp  in  front,  a  Suabian  regiment  installed  in 
the  rooms,  and  no  sooner  have  you  got  things 
into  a  civilized  condition  than  you  have  to  break 
up  to  the  sound  of  boot  and  saddle.  In  one 
year  I  changed  my  abode  three  times.  I  could 
have  borne  it  all  so  far  as  I  was  concerned,  but 
there  was  the  child.  Freddy  became  subject  to 
attacks  of  fever,  so  I  bundled  him  up  and  brought 
him  here.  He  recovered  immediately,  and  I  wrote 
to  my  husband  that  he  must  choose  between  his 
family  and  the  army." 

"  That  was  to  the  point,  at  least,"  said  Rohritz. 

"  Yes.  He  was  apparently  offended,  and  did  not 
answer  my  letter  for  a  month.  Then  he  was  seized 
with  a  longing  for — for  the  child.  He  alighted  in 
the  midst  of  our  solitude  like  a  bomb  at  Sevas- 
topol. Of  course  we  were  charmed  to  see  him,  and 
he  was  so  delighted  with  Erlach  Court  that  he 


THE  ARRIVAL.  33 

was  quite  ready  to  turn  his  back  on  the  service. 
I,  however,  do  not  approve  of  hasty  decisions,  and 
so  I  advised  him  to  postpone  his  change  of  voca- 
tions  " 

"  His  resignation  of  a  vocation,"  Baron  Rohritz 
interpolated. 

"  What  a  hair-splitting  humour  you  are  in  to- 
day !"  Katrine  rejoined,  with  a  shrug, — "  to  post- 
pone for  a  while  his — resignation,  if  that  pleases 
you.  So  he  obtained  leave  of  absence  for  a  year. 
Hm ! — I  am  afraid  he  is  beginning  to  be  bored. 
I  cannot  understand  it.  You  must  admit  that  we 
are  charmingly  situated  here." 

"  Indeed  you  are." 

"  The  estate  is  in  good  order,"  Katrine  went 
on,  "  and  we  have  no  neighbours." 

"  A  great  advantage." 

"  So  it  seems  to  me.  One  of  the  most  disagree- 
able sides  of  an  army  life  was  always,  in  my  opin- 
ion, the  being  forced  into  association  with  so  many 
unpleasant  people.  Most  of  my  husband's  com- 
rades were  very  agreeable,  unusually  kindly,  pleas- 
ant men,  but  to  be  forced  to  accept  them  all,  and 
their  wives  into  the  bargain  without  liberty  to 
show  any  preference, — it  was  simply  odious.  I 
am  a  fanatic  for  solitude ;  the  usual  human  being 
I  dislike;  but  you  cannot  throw  everybody  over, 
however  you  may  desire  to  do  so," — with  a  glance 
over  her  shoulder  towards  Stasy  and  the  general. 


34  ERLACH  COURT. 

"  I  beg  you  will  make  no  application  to  yourself  of 
my  remark." 

"Much  obliged."  Rohritz  bowed.  "I  confess 
I  began " 

"  ISTo  need  of  fine  phrases,"  Katrine  interrupted 
him.  "  You  know  I  like  you.  And  in  proof  of 
it — you  may  have  heard  that  we  want  to  pass  the 
winter  here ;  it  will  be  delightful !  entirely  lonely, 
— shut  off  from  civilization  by  a  wall  of  snow, — 
Christmas  in  the  country, — the  children  from  three 
villages  to  provide  with  gifts, — the  castle  quite 
empty,  except  for  our  three  selves  and  Freddy! 
Well,  in  proof  of  my  genuine  friendship  I  invite 
you  to  share  with  us  this  charming  solitude.  Will 
you  come?  Say  you  will."  Dropping  her  work 
in  her  lap,  she  offers  him  both  her  hands. 

"A"  curious  creature!  She  treats  me  like  an 
aged  man,  and  moreover  considers  herself  suffi- 
ciently elderly  to  dispense  with  caution  in  her  inter- 
course with  the  other  sex.  An  odd  illusion  for  a 
woman  still  extremely  pretty,"  Rohritz  thinks; 
and,  occupied  with  these  reflections,  he  does  not 
immediately  reply. 

"  You  decline  ?"  she  asks,  merrily.  "  I  shall  not 
throw  away  such  an  invitation  upon  you  a  second 
time." 

"  They  are  coming !  they  are  coming !"  Stasy 
exclaims,  clapping  her  hands  childishly  and  trip- 
ping to  and  fro  in  much  excitement. 


THE  ARRIVAL.  35 

"  I  do  not  hear  the  carriage,"  Katrine  rejoins, 
looking  at  her  watch.  "  Besides,  it  is  not  time  for 
them  yet." 

"  But  I  hear  something  in  the  avenue Ah, 

please  come,  dear  Edgar,"  Stasy  entreats. 

Rohritz  does  not  stir. 

"  Baron  Rohritz  !"  in  an  imploring  tone. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you,  Fraulein  Stasy  ?" 

"Your  opera-glass — be  quick!"  And,  while 
Rohritz  reluctantly  rises  to  go  for  the  desired 
optical  aid,  Stasy  lisps,  "N"ot  at  all  over-polite; 
quite  like  a  brother :  just  what  I  enjoy." 

"  It  is  they,"  Katrine  exclaims.  "  The  carriage 
is  just  turning  into  the  avenue.  Let  me  have  it 
for  a  moment," — taking  from  his  hand  the  glass 
which  Rohritz  has  just  brought.  "  Yes,  now  I  see 
them  quite  distinctly." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  rattle  of  approaching 
wheels  is  heard.  The  two  ladies  and  the  general 
hasten  down  to  receive  the  guests.  Rohritz  dis- 
creetly withdraws  to  his  apartment,  and  from  behind 
his  half-drawn  curtains  watches  the  arrival.  The 
carriage  stops,  the  captain  springs  out  to  aid  two 
ladies  to  alight.  At  first  Rohritz  hears  nothing 
but  a  hubbub  of  glad  voices,  sees  nothing  but  a 
confused  group,  the  general  standing  on  one  side 
with  a  polite  grin  on  his  face,  and  Freddy  giving 
vent  to  his  joyous  excitement  by  performing  a  war- 
dance  around  the  party. 


36  ERLACH  COURT. 

"When  the  situation  at  last  becomes  clear,  he 
perceives  a  very  handsome  old  lady  in  a  close 
black  travelling-hat,  a  pair  of  blue  spectacles 
shielding  her  eyes  from  the  dust,  and  wearing  a 
dust-cloak  which  may  once  have  been  black,  while 
beside  her — he  adjusts  his  eye-glass  in  his  eye — 
assuredly  Stella  does  not  remind  him  of  the 
*  hysterical  tree-frog'  of  frightful  memory,  but  of 
some  one  else,  for  the  life  of  him  he  cannot  re- 
member whom.  He  looks  and  looks,  sees  two 
serious  dark  eyes  in  a  gentle  childlike  face  be- 
neath the  broad  brim  of  a  Kate-Green  away  hat,  a 
half-w*ayward,  half-shy  smile,  charming  dimples 
appearing  by  turns  in  the  cheeks  and  at  the  cor- 
ners of  the  mouth,  a  delicately-chiselled  nose,  a 
very  short  and  rather  haughty  upper  lip,  beneath 
which  gleam  rows  of  pearly  teeth,  and  for  the 
rest,  the  figure  of  a  sylph,  rather  tall,  still  a  little 
too  thin,  and  with  a  foot  peeping  from  beneath 
her  skirt  that  Taglioni  might  covet. 

He  looks  and  looks.  No,  Stella  certainly  does 
not  remind  him  of  the  '  hysterical  tree-frog,'  but 
as  certainly  she  recalls  to  his  mind  something, 
some  one — who  is  it?  who  can  it  be ? 

An  unpleasant  surmise  occurs  to  him,  but  before 
it  can  take  actual  shape  in  his  brain  the  impetuous 
entrance  of  the  captain  has  banished  it. 

"  Come  to  the  drawing-room,  Rohritz,  and  be 
presented  to  the  ladies,"  he  calls  out.  "By  the 


STELLA.  37 

way,  what  means  this  wretched  idea  of  which 
Stasy  informs  me?  She  says  that  you  are  going 
hack  to  Gratz  immediately." 

"  The  fact  is,  my  lawyer  has  summoned  me," 
Rohritz  replies ;  "  but — hm ! — I  fancy  the  matter 
can  he  settled  hy  letter.  At  any  rate,  I  will  try 
to  have  it  so  disposed  of." 

"  Bravo !" 


CHAPTER    IV. 

STELLA. 

FREDDY  has  heen  terribly  disappointed ;  instead 
of  the  bonbonniere,  the  snap-pistol,  or  the  story- 
book, among  which  three  articles  he  has  allowed 
his  expectant  imagination  to  rove,  his  aunt  has 
brought  him  Sanders's  German  Dictionary. 

"  I  hope  you  will  like  it,"  Stella  remarks,  with 
emphasis,  depositing  the  voluminous  gift  upon  the 
school-room  table.  "  "We  had  to  pay  for  at  least 
five  pounds  of  extra  weight  of  luggage  in  the 
monster's  behalf,  and  moreover  it  has  crushed  flat 
my  only  new  summer  hat.  'Tis  a  great  pity." 

Freddy,  who,  although  hitherto  rather  puny  and 
delicate  in  body,  is  mentally,  thanks  to  clever  qual- 
ities inherited  from  both  his  parents,  far  in  ad- 
vance of  his  age,  and  already  thinks  Yoss's  trans- 

4 


38  ERLACH  COURT. 

lation  of  the  Odyssey  entertaining,  turns  over  the 
leaves  of  the  three  volumes  of  the  Dictionary  with- 
out finding  them  attractive. 

"  I  put  in  a  good  word  for  the  child,"  Stella  says, 
with  a  laugh,  to  the  captain,  who  with  his  friend 
Rohritz  happens  to  be  in  Freddy's  school-room, 
"  but  mamma  insists  that  it  is  of  no  consequence ; 
if  it  does  not  please  him  now,  it  will  be  very 
useful  to  him  in  future.  Never  mind,  my  darling," 
she  adds,  turning  to  her  little  cousin,  who,  with  a 
sigh  and  not  without  much  physical  effort,  is  put- 
ting the  colossal  Sanders  on  his  bookshelves ;  "  it 
certainly  presents  an  imposing  spectacle,  and  I 
have  a  foolish  thing  for  your  birthday,  the  very 
finest  my  limited  means  could  afford."  As  she 
speaks  she  strokes  the  little  fellow's  brown  curls 
affectionately. 

"  Stella,  Stella,  where  are  you  loitering  ?"  a  deep 
voice  calls  at  this  moment,  and  the  girl  replies, — 

"  In  a  moment,  mamma,  I  am  coming ! — I  have 
to  write  a  letter  to  a  Berlin  publisher,"  she  says 
by  way  of  explanation  to  the  two  men,  as  she 
leaves  the  room. 
******* 

The  evening  has  come.  Dinner  is  over.  All 
are  sitting  in  more  or  less  comfortable  garden- 
chairs  on  the  terrace  before  the  castle,  beneath  the 
spreading  boughs  of  a  linden,  now  laden  with 
fragrant  blossoms. 


STELLA.  39 

The  stars  are  not  yet  awake,  but  the  moon  has 
risen  full,  though  giving  but  little  light,  and  look- 
ing in  its  reddish  lustre  like  a  candle  lighted  by 
day;  the  heavens  are  of  a  pale,  greenish  blue, 
with  opalescent  gleams  on  the  horizon.  The  sun 
has  set,  twilight  has  mingled  lights  and  shadows, 
the  colours  of  the  flowers  are  dull  and  faded. 
Around  the  castle  reigns  a  sweet,  peaceful  silence, 
that  most  precious  of  all  the  luxuries  of  a  resi- 
dence in  the  country.  The  evening  wind  mur- 
murs a  dreamy  duo  with  the  ripple  of  the  stream 
running  at  the  foot  of  the  garden,  and  now  and 
then  is  heard  the  heavy  foot-fall  of  a  peasant  re- 
turning from  his  work  to  the  village. 

Baroness  Meineck  is  holding  forth  to  her  hostess, 
who  listens  patiently,  or  at  least  silently,  upon  the 
subject  of  the  cholera-bacilli  and  the  latest  dis- 
coveries of  Pasteur.  To  Rohritz,  who,  will  he  nill 
he,  has  had  to  place  his  hands  at  the  disposal  of 
the  arch  Stasy  as  a  reel  for  her  crewel,  the  Baron- 
ess's voice  partly  recalls  a  sentinel  and  partly  a 
tragic  actress;  she  always  talks  in  fine  rounded 
periods,  as  if  she  suspected  a  stenographer  con- 
cealed near.  "While  the  quondam  beauty,  with  a 
thousand  superfluous  little  arts,  winds  an  endless 
length  of  red  worsted  upon  a  folded  playing-card, 
he  glances  towards  the  spot  where  Stella  is  telling 
stories  to  Freddy,  and  involuntarily  listens. 

Since  the  Baroness,   perhaps   because   she  has 


40  ERLACH  COURT. 

reached  some  rather  delicate  details  in  her  medi- 
cal treatise,  sees  fit  to  lower  slightly  her  powerful 
voice,  he  can  hear  almost  every  word  spoken  by 
Stella.  "If  he  is  especially  susceptible  in  any  re- 
gard, it  is  in  that  of  a  beautiful  mode  of  speech. 
What  Stella  says  he  is  quite  indifferent  to,  but  the 
delightful  tone  of  her  soft,  clear,  bird-like  voice 
touches  his  soul  with  an  indescribably  soothing 
charm. 

"  Now  that's  enough.  I  do  not  know  any  more 
stories,"  he  hears  her  say  at  last  in  reply  to  an  en- 
treaty from  her  little  cousin  for  "just  one  more." 

"  No  more  at  all  ?"  Freddy  asks,  in  dismay,  and 
with  all  the  earnestness  of  his  age. 

"  No  more  to-day,"  Stella  says,  consolingly.  "  I 
shall  know  another  to-morrow."  She  kisses  him  on 
the  forehead.  "You  look  tired,  my  darling!  Is  it 
your  bedtime  ?" 

"  No,"  the  captain  answers  for  him,  "  but  he 
could  not  sleep  last  night  for  delight  in  the  coming 
of  our  guests,  and  he  is  paying  for  it  now.  Shall 
I  carry  you  up-stairs — hey,  Freddy  ?" 

But  Freddy  considers  it  quite  beneath  his  dig- 
nity to  go  to  bed  with  the  chickens,  and  prefers 
to  clamber  upon  his  father's  knee. 

"  You  are  growing  too  big  a  fellow  for  this,"  the 
captain  says,  rather  reprovingly :  nevertheless  he 
puts  his  arm  tenderly  about  the  boy,  saying  to 
Stella,  by  way  of  excuse,  "  We  spoil  him  terribly : 


STELLA.  41 

he  was  not  very  strong  in  the  spring,  and  he  still 
enjoys  all  the  privileges  of  a  convalescent, — hey, 
my  boy?"  By  way  of  reply  the  little  fellow 
nestles  close  to  his  father  with  some  indistinct 
words  expressive  of  great  content,  and  while  the 
captain's  moustache  is  pressed  upon  the  child's 
soft  hair,  Stella  takes  a  small  scarlet  wrap  from 
her  shoulders  and  folds  it  about  his  bare  legs. 

""Pis  good  to  sleep  so,  Freddy,  is  it  not?  Ah, 
where  are  the  times  gone  when  I  could  climb  up 
on  rny  father's  knees  and  fall  asleep  on  his  shoul- 
der?— they  were  the  happiest  hours  of  my  life!" 
the  girl  says,  with  a  sigh. 

"But,  Barou  Rohritz,  pray  hold  your  hands  a 
little  quieter,"  the  wool-winding  Stasy  calls  out  to 
her  victim.  "  You  twitch  them  all  the  time." 

"  If  you  only  knew  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  all 
again,  and  to  spend  a  few  days  in  the  country," 
Stella  begins  afresh  after  a  while. 

"  Why,  do  you  not  come  directly  from  the  coun- 
try?" the  captain  asks,  surprised. 

"From  the  country? — we  come  from  Zalow," 
Stella  replies :  "  the  difference  is  heaven-wide. 
Yes,  when  mamma  thirty  years  ago  bought  the 
mill  where  we  live  now, — without  the  miller  and 
his  wife,  'tis  true, — because  it  was  so  picturesque, 
it  really  was  in  the  country,  or  at  least  in  a  village, 
where  besides  ourselves  there  were  only  a  few 
peasants,  and  one  other  person,  a  misanthropic 

4* 


42  ERLACH  COURT. 

widow  who  lived  at  the  very  end  of  the  hamlet  in 
a  one-story  house  concealed  behind  a  screen  of 
chestnut-trees.  I  have  no  objection  to  peasant 
huts,  particularly  when  their  thatched  roofs  are 
overgrown  with  green  moss,  and  misanthropic 
widows  are  seldom  in  one's  way.  But  ten  years 
ago  a  railway  was  built  directly  through  Zalow, 
and  villas  shot  up  out  of  the  ground  in  every 
direction  like  mushrooms.  And  such  villas, 
and  such  proprietors !  All  nouveaux  riches  and 
pushing  tradesfolk  from  Prague.  A  stocking- 
weaver  built  two  villas  close  beside  us, — one  for 
his  own  family,' and  the  other  to  rent;  he  chris- 
tened the  pair  Girofle-Girofla,  and  declares  that 
the  name  alone  is  worth  ten  thousand  guilders. 
He  also  maintains  that  the  architecture  of  his 
villas  is  the  purest  classic :  each  has  a  Greek  peri- 
style and  a  square  belvedere.  It  would  be  de- 
liciously  ridiculous  if  one  were  not  forced  to  have 
the  monsters  directly  before  one's  eyes  all  the  time. 
The  worst  of  it  is  that  one  really  gets  used  to 
them  !  Dear  papa's  former  tailor  has  built  himself 
a  hunting-lodge  in  the  style  of  Francis  the  First 
directly  on  the  road,  behind  a  gilded  iron  fence 
and  without  a  tree  near  it  for  fear  of  obscuring  its 
splendour.  Like  all  retired  tradesfolk,  the  tailor 
is  sentimental.  Only  lately  he  complained  to  me 
of  the  difficulty  experienced  by  cultivated  people 
in  finding  a  fitting  social  circle." 


STELLA.  43 

"Do  you  know  him  personally,  then?"  the  cap- 
tain asks,  with  an  air  of  annoyance. 

"  Oh,,  yes,  we  know  every  one  to  bow  to,"  says 
Stella.  "  In  a  little  while  we  shall  exchange  calls : 
I  am  looking  forward  to  that  with  great  pleasure." 

"  "What  do  you  think  of  such  talk,  Baron  ?" 
Stasy  asks  under  her  breath. 

Baron  Rohritz  makes  no  reply:  perhaps  such 
talk  is  to  his  taste. 

Meanwhile,  Stella  goes  on  in  the  same  satirical 
tone :  "  As  soon  as  some  one  of  these  aesthetic 
proprietors  has  come  to  a  decision  as  to  where 
the  piano  is  to  stand,  we  shall  certainly  be  invited 
to  admire  the  new  furniture.  Then  mamma  will 
look  up  from  her  hooks  and  say,  *  I  have  no  time  ; 
but  if  you  want  to  go,  pray  do  as  you  please.' 
Mamma  never  cares  what  I  do  or  where  I  go." 
Stella's  soft  voice  trembles ;  she  shakes  her  head, 
passes  her  hand  over  her  eyes,  and  runs  on  :  "  Even 
the  walks  are  spoiled ;  one  is  never  sure  of  not  en- 
countering a  picnic-party.  They  are  always  sing- 
ing by  turns  '  Dear  to  my  heart,  thou  forest  fair,' 
and  '  Gaudeamus,'  and  when  they  leave  it  the 
'  forest  fair'  is  always  littered  with  cold  victuals, 
greasy  brown  paper,  and  tin  cans.  It  is  horrible ! 
I  detest  that  railway.  It  snatched  from  us  the 
prettiest  part  of  our  garden  ;  there  is  scarcely  room 
enough  left  for  '  pussy  wants  a  corner,'  and  now 
mamma  has  rented  half  of  it  and  the  ground- 


44  ERLACH  COURT. 

floor  of  the  mill  to  a  family  from  Prague  for  a 
summer  residence." 

"  I  do  not  understand  Lina,"  the  captain  says, 
with  irritation.  "  You  surely  are  not  reduced  to 
the  necessity  of  renting  part  of  your  small  house 
for  lodgings." 

"  Mamma  wanted  just  two  hundred  guilders  to 
buy  Littre's  Dictionary, — the  fine  complete  edition. 
Moreover,  I  think  you  are  under  a  mistake  with 
regard  to  our  resources.  I  detest  the  railway,  but 
if  it  had  not  bought  of  us,  two  years  ago,  a  piece 
of  land  on  which  to  build  a  shop,  I  hardly  know 
what  we  should  be  living  upon  now.  Ah,  if  poor 
papa  could  see  how  we  live !  He  could  not  im- 
agine a  household  without  a  butler  or  a  lady's- 
maid.  Mamma  dismissed  the  butler  at  first  upon 
strictly  moral  grounds " 

Anastasia  von  Gurlichingen  casts  down  her  eyes. 
"Did  you  ever  hear  anything  like  that,  Baron 
Rohritz,"  she  asks,  "  from  a  young  girl  ?" 

Rohritz  shrugs  his  shoulders  impatiently,  and 
Stella  goes  on  quite  at  her  ease : 
•f*  He  was  always  making  love  to  the  cook,  and 
the  lady's-maid  was  jealous  and  complained  of  it. 
Then  the  lady's-maid  was  dismissed,  for  pecuniary 
reasons;  then  the  cook,  for  sanitary  considerations: 
one  fine  day  she  nearly  poisoned  us  all  with  ver- 
digris, her  copper  kettles  were  so  badly  scoured. 
Her  place  was  never  filled,  for  in  the  interim,  that 


STELLA.  45 

is,  while  we  were  looking  for  a  new  cordon  bleu, 
mamma  discovered  that  a  cook  was  a  very  costly 
article  and  that  we  could  get  along  without  one. 
Our  last  maid-of-all  work  was  a  dwarf  not  quite 
four  feet  tall,  who  had  to  mount  on  a  stool  to  set 
the  table.  Mamma  engaged  her  because  she 
thought  that  her  ugliness  would  put  a  stop  to  love- 
making "  Stella  breaks  the  thread  of  her 

discourse  to  laugh  gently;  her  laugh  is  like  the 
ripple  of  a  brook.  "But  real  talent  defies  all 
obstacles.  Mamma's  experiment  made  her  richer 
by  one  sad  experience :  she  knows  now  that  not 
even  a  large  hump  can  make  its  possessor  im- 
pervious to  Cupid's  arrows." 

The  captain  laughs.  Stasy's  disapprobation  has 
reached  its  climax ;  she  twitches  impatiently  at  the 
worsted  she  is  winding  from  Rohritz's  hands. 

"  What  would  papa  say  if  he  could  see  it  all  ?" 
Stella  says,  in  a  changed  voice. 

"  Do  you  still  grieve  so  for  your  poor  father, 
mouse  ?"  the  captain  asks,  kindly,  perceiving  that 
the  girl  with  difficulty  restrains  her  tears  at  the 
mention  of  her  dead  father.  * 

"  You  would  not  ask  that,  uncle,  if  you  knew 
what  a  life  I  lead,"  she  replies,  in  a  choked  voice. 
"  Yes,  it  is  amusing  enough  to  tell  of,  but  to 

live There  is  no  use  in  thinking  of  it!" 

She  bends  slightly  above  her  little  cousin,  whose 
head  is  resting  quietly  upon  his  father's  shoulder. 


46  ERLACH  COURT. 

"He  is  sound  asleep,"  she  whispers,  brushing 
away  a  fluttering  night-moth  from  Freddy's  pretty 
face, — "  poor  little  man !" 

"  It  is  growing  cool,"  Katrine  declares,  glancing 
anxiously  towards  Freddy  in  the  midst  of  the 
Baroness's  interesting  discourse  upon  the  latest 
achievements  of  medical  science,  and  then,  rising, 
she  leaves  her  sister-in-law  to  go  to  her  little  son, 
saying,  "  Give  me  the  boy,  Jack.  I  will  carry  him 
up-stairs." 

"What!  drag  up-stairs  with  this  heavy  boy? 
Nonsense !"  says  the  captain. 

Whereupon  Freddy  wakes,  rubs  his  eyes,  is  a 
little  cross  at  first,  after  the  fashion  of  sleepy  chil- 
dren, but  finally  says  good-night  to  all  and  goes  off, 
his  little  hand  clasped  in  his  mother's. 

"Here  is  some  one  else  asleep  too!"  says  Ka- 
trine, as  she  passes  the  general,  who  is  sitting  with 
his  arms  crossed  and  his  head  sunk  on  his  breast. 

"  Can  you  tell  me,  Jack,  whether  mummies  ever 
have  the  rheumatism?"  she  asks.  "Indeed,  you 
had  better  waken  him.  I  will  have  the  whist-table 
set  out. — And  you,  sweetheart,"  she  says  to  Stella, 
"  might  unpack  your  music  and  sing  us  something." 

While  Stella  amiably  rises  to  go  with  her  aunt, 
and  the  Baroness  makes  ready  to  follow  them, 
murmuring  that  she  must  unpack  the  music  her- 
self, or  her  manuscripts  will  be  all  disarranged, 
Stasy  turns  to  Rohritz : 


STELLA.  47 

"  "What  do  you  say  to  it  all  ?  Did  you  ever  hear 
such  talk  from  a  well-born  girl  ?  Such  a  conversa- 
tion !  Some  allowance,  to  be  sure,  must  be  made 
for  her." 

But  Rohritz  simply  murmurs,  "  Poor  girl !" 

"  Yes,  she  is  greatly  to  be  pitied ;  her  training 
has  been  deplorable !"  sighs  Stasy,  and  then,  lower- 
ing her  voice  a  little,  she  adds,  "  The  colonel " 

"What  Meineck  was  he?"  Rohritz  interrupts 
her,  impatiently.  "  There  are  four  or  five  in  the 
army, — sons  of  a  field-marshal,  if  I  am  not  mis- 
taken. Was  he  in  the  dragoons  or  the  Uhlans  ?" 

"Franz  Meineck,  of  the  Hussars,"  says 

Jack. 

"  The  one,  then,  who  distinguished  himself  at 
Solferino  and  got  the  Theresa  cross?"  Rohritz  asks. 

"  The  same,"  replies  the  captain. 

"I  do  not  know  why  I  imagined  that  it  must 
have  been  Heinrich  Meineck.  It  was  Franz, 
then."  He  adds,  with  some  hesitation,  "I  did  not 
know  him  personally,  but  I  have  heard  a  great 
deal  of  him.  He  must  have  been  a  charming 
officer  and  a  delightful  comrade,  besides  being  one 
of  the  bravest  men  in  the  army " 

"He  was  particularly  distinguished  as  a  hus- 
band," Stasy  exclaims,  with  her  usual  frank 
malice. 

"We  will  not  speak  of  that,  Fraulein  Stasy," 
saya  the  captain.  "  My  sister's  marriage  was  cer- 


48  ERLACH  COURT. 

tainly  an  insane,  overwrought  affair,  and  Franz 
gave  his  wife  abundant  cause  for  leaving  him ;  but 
of  the  two  lives  his  was  the  ruined  one." 


CHAPTEK    V. 

AN   EXPERIMENT. 

YES,  of  the  two  lives  the  colonel's  was  the  ruined 
one;  wherefore,  in  spite  of  all  the  evident  and 
great  fault  on  his  side,  the  sympathies  of  every  one 
were  in  his  favour, — that  is,  of  all  his  fellows  who 
knew  life  and  the  world,  and  who  were  ready  to 
give  their  regard  and  their  sympathy  to  men  as 
they  are,  instead  of,  like  certain  great  philosophers, 
reserving  their  entire  store  of  commiseration  for 
those  exquisitely  correct  creatures,  men  as  they 
should  be. 

When  they  made  each  other's  acquaintance  in 
Lemberg  at  Lina's  father's,  General  Leskjewitsch's, 
Franz  Meineck  was  twenty-six  and  Lina  Leskje- 
witsch  thirty-two  years  old.  Nevertheless  the 
world — the  world  that  was  familiar  with  these  two 
people — wondered  far  more  at  her  fancy  for  him 
than  at  his  falling  a  prey  to  her  fascinations. 

She  had  from  her  earliest  years  been  an  excep- 
tionally interesting  girl,  and  a  position  as  such  had 


AN  EXPERIMENT.  49 

always  been  accorded  her  without  any  effort  on 
her  part  to  obtain  it,  for  in  spite  of  all  her  whims 
and  eccentricities  no  one  could  detect  in  her  a 
spark  of  affectation  or  pretension.  She  was  alto- 
gether too  indifferent  to  what  people  said  of  her 
ever  to  pose  for  the  applause  of  the  crowd.  Her 
egotism,  fed  as  it  was  by  the  homage  of  those 
around  her,  led  her  to  yield  to  the  prompting  of 
every  caprice,  and  since  she  was  very  beautiful, 
and  could  be  excessively  fascinating  when  she 
chose, — since,  moreover,  her  father  held  a  distin- 
guished office  under  government, — she  was  dubbed 
original  and  a  genius  where  other  girls  would  have 
been  condemned  as  eccentric  and  unmaidenly. 

Always  keenly  alive  to  intellectual  interests,  she 
was,  by  the  time  she  had  reached  her  twenty-fifth 
year,  a  confirmed  blue-stocking ;  she  studied  San- 
skrit, and  was  in  correspondence  with  half  the  scien- 
tific men  in  Europe.  Moreover,  she  was  by  no 
means  '  sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought,* 
but  full  of  wit  and  spirit.  She  swam  like  a  fish, 
venturing  alone  far  out  upon  river  or  lake,  and 
rode  with  the  boldness  of  a  trained  equestrian, 
without  even  a  groom  as  escort.  She  had  always 
disdained  to  dance ;  at  the  only  ball  she  had  ever 
been  induced  to  attend  she  had  been  merely  an 
on-looker.  She  could  not  comprehend  how  there 
could  be  any  pleasure  in  dancing,  she  remarked, 
with  a  contemptuous  glance  towards  the  whirling 
c  d  6 


50  ERLACH  COURT. 

couples :  it  was  either  ridiculous,  or  childish,  or 
else  positively  disgusting. 

Her  contempt  for  love-making  was  as  pronounced 
as  for  dancing.  The  homage  of  the  young  exqui- 
sites of  society  hored  her  inexpressibly;  it  was 
absolutely  odious  to  her.  She  often  boasted  that 
in  her  life  she  had  had  but  three  loves, — Buona- 
parte, Lord  Byron,  and  Machiavelli. 

All  her  acquaintance,  more  especially  the  femi- 
nine portion  of  it,  were  astounded  when  a  report 
was  suddenly  circulated  that  she  was  smitten  with 
Franz  Meineck,  a  simple,  fair-haired  hussar,  with 
nothing  to  recommend  him  save  his  handsome  face 
and  his  fine  chivalric  bearing. 

It  was  easy  to  see  what  attracted  him  in  her, — 
her  rich  brunette  beauty,  and,  in  strange  contrast 
with  it,  the  cold,  defiant  bluntness  of  her  air  and 
manner,  the  nimbus  of  originality  that  surrounded 
her,  the  fact  that  towards  all  other  men  her  in- 
difference was  well-nigh  discourtesy,  while  to  him 
she  was  amiability  itself.  But  what  she,  she  of 
all  girls  in  the  world,  could  find  to  attract  her  in 
him, — this  was  what  puzzled  the  brains  of  all  the 
wiseacres  in  Lemberg. 

But  that  he  pleased  her  no  one  could  deny, 
least  of  all  she  herself.  Once,  after  a  dinner  at 
which  Meineck  had  been  her  neighbour,  a  very 
cultivated  and  interesting  friend  asked  her  how 
she  could  possibly  find  any  entertainment  in  that 


AN  EXPERIMENT.  51 

superficial  hussar.  She  replied,  with  a  shrug,  that 
she  found  it  much  more  amusing  to  hear  a  super- 
ficial hussar  talk  than  to  see  a  distinguished  phi- 
losopher masticate  his  food,  which  according  to  her 
experience  was  the  only  entertainment  afforded  by 
great  scientific  lights  at  a  dinner. 

"While,  however,  Meineck's  love  for  her  was, 
from  the  very  beginning,  of  an  enthusiastic,  pas- 
sionate nature,  the  inclination  she  felt  for  him 
was  at  first  very  gentle  in  character. 

For  her  he  was  but  a  child;  the  idea  that  her 
relations  with  him  could  end  in  marriage  would 
have  seemed  more  mad  and  improbable  to  her 
than  to  any  one  else.  Her  demeanour  towards 
him  was  always  friendly;  she  would  rally  him 
good-humouredly,  and  anon  treat  him  with  a  kind- 
liness that  was  almost  maternal.  There  was  noth- 
ing in  her  manner  to  suggest  her  being  in  love 
with  him. 

Towards  the  end  of  February,  when  some  treach- 
erously mild  weather  heralded,  as  all  prophesied, 
a  cold  windy  March,  Lina  allowed  her  youthful 
adorer  to  be  her  escort  in  long  rides  on  horse- 
back. Here  he  was  in  his  element,  and  greatly 
her  superior  in  spite  of  her  Amazonian  skill.  It 
was  after  one  of  these  expeditions,  when  she 
reached  home  with  eyes  sparkling  and  cheeks 
slightly  flushed,  that  she  suddenly  had  an  attack 
of  terror.  She  knew  that,  accustomed  as  she  had 


52  ERLACH  COURT. 

been  for  so  long  to  absolute  freedom,  she  must 
sooner  or  later  find  any  fetters  galling;  she  did 
not  wish  to  marry. 

The  next  day,  without  informing  any  one  save 
her  nearest  of  kin  of  her  intention,  she  left  Lem- 
berg  and  retired  to  a  small  estate  near  Prague, 
where  after  her  independent  fashion  she  was  often 
wont  to  stay  for  months  alone  with  an  old  gardener 
and  her  maid. 

It  was  a  pretty,  romantic  spot,  formerly  a  mill. 
A  venerable  weeping-willow  stood  beside  it,  its 
branches  trailing  above  the  antiquated  mansard 
roof;  a  little  brook  rippled  past  it,  gurgling  and 
sobbing  between  banks  of  forget-me-nots  and  jon- 
quils on  its  way  to  the  larger  stream.  In  this 
particular  March,  however,  jonquils  and  forget-me- 
nots  were  still  sleeping  soundly  beneath  the  snow, 
and  the  brook  was  silent.  The  February  prophets 
were  right :  March  was  terribly  cold.  Long  icicles 
hung  from  the  eaves  of  the  mill,  almost  reaching 
its  windows,  and  the  weeping-willow  was  clad  in 
a  fairy-like  robe  of  glistening  snow. 

Lina  sat  from  morning  until  evening  like  a  kind 
of  feminine  Doctor  Faust  among  bookcases,  re- 
torts, and  globes  in  a  spacious,  dreary  room,  try- 
ing to  work  and  longing '  to  recover  herself.'  Then 
one  day  Meineck  made  his  appearance  at  the  mill. 
She  received  him  with  a  great  show  of  gay  in- 
difference, sitting  at  her  writing-table  and  playing 


AN  EXPERIMENT.  53 

with  her  pen  by  way  of  intimating  that  any  pro- 
longation of  his  visit  was  undesirable.  He  per- 
ceived this.  Embarrassed,  confused  by  the  sight 
of  the  scientific  apparatus  that  surrounded  him 
on  all  sides,  he  sat  leaning  forward,  his  sabre 
between  his  knees,  in  an  arm-chair  from  which 
he  had  been  obliged  to  remove  a  Greek  lexi- 
con and  two " volumes  of  the  'Revue,'  and  stam- 
mering all  sorts  of  childish  nonsense  while  he 
gazed  at  her  with  adoring  eyes.  She  wore  a 
perfectly  plain  gown  of  dark-green  cloth  fitting 
her  like  a  riding-habit,  and  her  hair,  which 
curled  naturally,  was  combed  back  behind  her 
ears  and  cut  short.  He  found  this  mode  of 
dressing  her  hair  charming,  and  his  heart  throbbed 
fast  as  he  noted  the  magnificent  fall  of  her  shoul- 
ders. In  his  eyes  she  was  incomparably  beau- 
tiful ;  hers  was  the  majestic  loveliness  of  the 
unattainable.  He  often  saw  her  thus  afterwards 
in  his  dreams,  and  in  his  death-agony  her 
image  hovered  before  him  again,  noble,  unde- 
faced,  as  it  was  impressed  upon  his  heart  at  this 
interview. 

Later  on  he  wondered  how  he  found  courage  to 
speak,  but — he  found  it.  He  sued  for  her  hand, 
he  wooed  her  passionately  with  words  that  could 
not  but  move  her.  She  refused  him.  He  would 
not  accept  her  refusal.  She  stood  her  ground 
bravely,  frankly  confessing  to  him  that  it  cost  her 

5* 


54  ERLACH  COURT. 

an  effort  to  repulse  him,  but  that  she  must  do  it  to 
insure  the  peace  of  mind  of  both.  Apart  from 
her  dislike  of  resigning  the  freedom  of  her  ex- 
istence, she  thought  it  unprincipled  to  give  heed 
to  the  pleading  of  a  poor  exaggerated  lad  who  was 
led  away  in  a  moment  of  romantic  enthusiasm  to 
offer  his  hand  to  a  woman  so  much  his  elder. 

There  were  such  full,  warm,  cordial  tones  in  her 
deep  voice !  Sight  and  hearing  failed  him.  He 
knelt  before  her,  kissed  the  hem  of  her  garment, 
and  promised  at  last  to  be  content  for  the  present 
if  she  would  allow  him  to  speak  again  at  the  end 
of  six  months.  By  that  time  it  would  be  manifest 
that  his  love  was  not  merely  momentary  romantic 
enthusiasm. 

She  laid  her  beautiful  slender  hands  upon  his 
shoulders,  and  said,  kindly,  "  Dear  lad,  if  after  six 
months  you  are  still  so  insane  as  to  covet  an  el- 
derly bride,  we  will  discuss  the  matter  again. 
And  now  adieu !" 

He  pressed  his  lips  upon  her  hand  so  passion- 
ately that  she  suddenly  withdrew  it,  and  the  colour 
mounted  to  her  cheeks;  he  had  never  seen  them 
flush  so  before.  His  eyes  fathomed  the  depths 
of  her  own  :  she  turned  her  head  away. 

"  An  revoir !"  he  said,  and  withdrew,  bowing 
gravely  and  profoundly. 

There  was  something  of  triumph  in  the  rhythm 
of  his  retreating  footsteps ;  at  least  so  it  seemed  to 


AN  EXPERIMENT.  55 

her  as  she  listened  to  the  sound  as  it  died  away  in 
the  distance.  He  walked  as  though  his  feet  were 
shod  with  victory.  Indignation  possessed  her. 
Her  strong  nature  defended  itself  vigorously 
against  the  influence  of  this  beguiling  insidious 
force  which  had  taken  captive  her  heart  and 
threatened  to  subdue  her  reason.  In  vain  !  The 
hand  which  his  lips  had  pressed  burned,  and  sud- 
denly there  glided  through  her  veins,  dreamily, 
lullingly,  a  something  inexpressibly  sweet,  some- 
thing she  had  never  experienced  before, — a  de- 
licious yet  paralyzing  sense  of  weariness.  She 
started,  and  sat  upright;  then,  gathering  together 
the  papers  on  her  writing-table,  she  tried  to 
work.  In  vain !  The  pen  dropped  from  her  fin- 
gers. She  rose  hastily  and  went  to  take  a  long 
walk.  Her  feet  sank  deep  in  the  melting  snow; 
the  air  was  warm,  and  the  south  wind  rustled 
among  the  trees  and  shrubbery,  whispering  mys- 
teriously along  the  crackling  surface  of  the  frozen 
brook.  Her  weariness  increased;  she  had  to  re- 
trace her  steps. 

She  went  to  bed  earlier  than  usual  that  evening, 
and  tried  to  think  of  grave  subjects ;  but  sweet, 
long-forgotten  melodies  haunted  her  heart  and 
brain :  she  could  not  think ;  and  at  last  she  fell 
asleep  to  the  sound  of  that  fairy-like  music  within 
her  soul. 

Tu  the  middle  of   the  night  she  awoke.     The 


56  ERLACH  COURT. 

moon  shone  through  her  window  directly  upon  her 
bed.  She  listened.  What  sound  was  that?  A 
merry  uproar  like  the  triumphal  note  of  spring — 
the  swift  rushing  of  the  brook — ascended  to  her 
windows.  The  ice  was  broken. 

And  in  slow,  monotonous  cadence  the  falling  of 
the  drops  from  the  melting  snow  on  the  roof  struck 
upon  her  ear. 

"  Ah,"  she  sighed,  "  the  spring  has  come !" 
*  *  ***** 

He  constantly  wrote  her  letters  full  of  chivalric 
fire  and  enthusiastic  devotion.  She  never  answered 
them.  Then  the  war  of  1859  broke  out.  One  of 
her  brothers  informed  her  that  Meineck  had  had 
himself  transferred  from  the  show-regiment — one 
but  little  adapted  to  service  in  the  field — to  which 
he  had  hitherto  belonged  to  another  which  had 
been  ordered  to  the  front.  A  short  time  afterwards 
she  received  from  the  young  hussar  the  following 
note : 

"  In  spite  of  the  horror  with  which  the  loss  of 
life  inseparable  from  every  campaign  inspires  me,  I 
rejoice  in  the  war.  I  rejoice  in  the  opportunity  of 
proving  to  you  at  last  that  I  am  worth  something  in 
the  world.  Grant  me  one  favour :  send  me  a  line 
or  two,  or  only  a  curl  of  your  hair,  or  some  little 
trinket  that  you  have  worn, — anything  belonging  to 
you  that  I  can  take  with  me  into  action.  I  kiss  your 


AN  EXPERIMENT.  57 

dear  hands,  and  am,  as  ever,  with  profound  esteem 
and  intense  devotion, 

"  Your  F.  MEINECK." 

She  clasped  her  hands  before  her  face  and  sobbed 
bitterly.  And  she,  who  all  her  life  long  had  jeered 
at  such  sentimentality,  cut  off  one  of  her  curls,  en- 
closed it  in  a  small  golden  locket,  and  sent  it  to 
him  with  the  following  words  : 

"DEAR  LAD, — 

"  You  burden  me  with  a  great  responsibility. 
There  was  no  need  for  you  to  plunge  neck  and 
heels  into  this  campaign  to  prove  to  me  that  you 
were  worth  something.  I  send  you  herewith  the 
trifle  for  which  you  ask :  may  it  carry  a  blessing 
with  it !  God  bring  you  safe  home,  is  the  earnest 
prayer  of  your  faithful  friend, 

"  HARDLINE  LESKJEWITSCH." 

June  passed.  The  earth  languished  beneath  the 
burning  sun.  Pale,  feverish,  and  sleepless,  Karoline 
Leskjewitsch  dragged  through  the  endless  summer 
days,  scraping  lint, — she  felt  unfit  for  any  other  oc- 
cupation,— and  reading  with  hot,  dry  eyes  the  lists 
of  the  dead  and  wounded. 

One  day  she  found  his  name  in  the  list  of  the 
dead.  She  was  crushed,  utterly  annihilated.  A  few 
hours  afterwards,  however,  she  received  a  letter 


58  ERLACH  COURT. 

from  her  brother,  stating  that  the  report  of  Mei- 
neck's  death  was  a  mistake;  he  was  in  Venice, 
severely  wounded.  She  could  not  tell  how  it  was, 
but  on  the  same  evening,  almost  without  luggage, 
without  telling  any  one  of  her  plans,  she  started 
off  with  her  old  maid,  and  two  days  later  arrived 
in  Venice  and  was  conducted  by  her  brother  to  the 
room  where  the  wounded  man  lay. 

Pale,  wasted,  with  dishevelled  hair  and  sunken 
features,  he  lay  back  among  the  pillows.  Too 
weak  to  stir,  he  could  only  greet  her  with  a  bliss- 
ful smile. 

She  wore  a  black  Spanish  hat  with  large  nodding 
feathers.  As  she  entered  she  took  it  off,  and,  going 
to  his  bedside,  she  said,  "  I  did  not  come  merely  to 
see  you,  but  as  a  Sister  of  Charity,  and  I  shall  stay 
with  you  until  you  are  well  again." 

He  replied,  in  a  voice  so  weak  as  to  be  scarce 
audible,  "  To  make  me  well  a  single  word  will 
suffice  :  say  it !" 

She  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then,  stooping 
over  him,  she  pressed  her  lips  to  his. 

Who  that  saw  them  together  ten  years  later  could 
have  believed  it  ?  No  marriage  was  ever  more  ro- 
mantic than  theirs  at  first.  His  case  was  considered 
hopeless.  The  two  physicians  whom  she  questioned 
as  to  his  condition  declared  his  recovery  impossible. 
Resolutely  setting  aside  all  opposition,  she  was  mar- 
ried to  him  immediately,  that  she  might  nurse  him 


AN  EXPERIMENT.  59 

devotedly  and  be  enabled  to  support  him  in  the 
dark  hour  of  the  death-struggle. 

At  the  end  of  ten  weeks  the  physicians  acknowl- 
edged that  they  had  been  mistaken.  Not  only  was 
he  out  of  danger,  but  he  had  well-nigh  recovered 
his  former  strength  and  vigour.  Early  in  October 
the  pair  took  their  wedding-trip  to  Bohemia.  In 
matters  of  sentiment  Franz  was  a  poet  to  his  finger- 
tips, and  he  scorned  the  idea  of  the  usual  journey 
with  his  bride  from  one  hotel  to  another.  They 
spent  their  honeymoon  in  the  old  mill  at  Zalow. 

On  many  a  fresh,  dewy,  autumnal  morning  the 
peasants  saw  the  two  tall  figures  strolling  through 
the  forest  where  the  leaves  were  rapidly  falling. 
She  who  had  hitherto  carried  herself  so  erect  now 
walked  with  bent  head  and  with  shoulders  slightly 
bowed,  as  if  scarcely  able  to  bear  the  weight  of  her 
great  happiness. 

They  would  wander  unweariedly  about  the  coun- 
try for  hours :  they  ransacked  all  the  old  peasant 
dwellings  for  antiquities,  and  they  chose  the  spot 
for  their  graves  in  a  picturesque,  romantic  church- 
yard. And  when  the  light  faded  and  they  re- 
turned home,  they  would  sit  beside  each  other  in 
the  twilight  in  the  spacious  room  where  he  had 
wooed  her,  and  where  now  all  the  literary  and 
scientific  apparatus  had  given  place  to  huge  bou- 
quets of  autumn  flowers  filling  the  vases  in  every 
corner.  The  bouquets  slowly  changed  colour,  the 


60  ERLACH  COURT. 

cornflowers  paled  and  the  poppies  grew  black,  in 
the  darkening  night;  and  something  like  profound 
melancholy  would  possess  the  lovers, — the  sacred 
melancholy  of  happiness.  With  her  hand  in  his, 
the  wife  would  tell  her  hushand  of  the  mild  March 
night  in  which  the  joyous  sobbing  of  the  brook  had 
wakened  her,  calling  to  her  that  spring  had  come. 

"  Believe  it  or  not,  as  you  please,"  Meineck  was 
wont  to  say,  often  with  a  very  bitter  smile,  in  after- 
years,  "I  am  really  that  fabulous  individual,  hitherto 
sought  for  in  vain,  the  man  who  never,  during  the 
entire  period  of  his  honeymoon,  wras  bored  for  a 
single  quarter  of  an  hour." 

He  took  up  his  profession  again ;  she  would  not 
hear  of  his  resigning  from  the  army  for  her  sake. 
"When  he  proposed  it  she  clasped  her  arm  tenderly 
about  his  neck  and  said,  "  Inactivity  would  ill  be- 
come you,  and  I  want  to  be  proud  indeed  of  my 
husband.  I  have  but  one  duty  now  in  life,  to  make 
you  happy,"  she  gently  added. 

He  was  fairly  dizzy  with  bliss.  "Was  it  possible, 
he  sometimes  asked  himself,  that  an  angel  had  ac- 
tually descended  from  heaven  to  nestle  in  his  heart 
and  to  conjure  up  for  him  a  Paradise  on  earth? 
Her  caresses  gained  in  value  from  the  fact  that  she 
was  not  so  softly  docile  as  other  women,  that  now 
and  then  he  had  to  overcome  in  her  a  certain 
acerbity  and  harshness. 

"  A  woman  and  a  horse  must  both  be  possessed 


AN  EXPERIMENT.  61 

of  amiable  possibilities  of  obstinacy,  or  we  take  no 
pleasure  in  them,"  he  declared. 

She  bloomed  afresh  after  her  marriage.  Her 
features,  which  were  rather  marked,  grew  softer, 
and  had  the  freshness  of  those  of  a  girl  of  eighteen. 
Her  hair,  which  at  his  request  she  allowed  to  grow, 
curled  in  soft  rings  about  her  brow.  Every  one 
noticed  how  very  beautiful  she  had  grown ;  and  he 
too,  they  said,  had  gained  much  since  his  marriage. 
His  moral  and  intellectual  stand-point  was  loftier. 
She  refused  to  have  an  interest  which  he  did  not 
share ;  she  expended  an  immense  amount  of  acute- 
ness  in  discovering  what  would  arrest  his  attention 
in  whatever  she  was  reading,  and  either  repeated  it 
to  him  or  read  it  aloud. 

The  idea  of  playing  the  love-sick  girl '  at  her 
age  was  odious  to  her, — ridiculous ;  she  wished  to 
be  his  friend,  his  trusty  comrade;  but  withal  she 
spoiled  him  by  a  thousand  delicate  attentions  far 
more  than  the  youngest  wife  would  have  done. 
She  exhausted  her  ingenuity  in  rendering  his  life 
delightful.  She  was  not  fond  of  going  much  into 
society ;  therefore  she  made  his  home  attractive  to 
his  comrades.  The  entire  regiment  adored  her, 
from  the  colonel  to  the  youngest  ensign.  The 
women  alone  hated  her.  It  was  intolerable,  they 
thought,  that  a  blue-stocking  should  presume  to 
eclipse  them  with  the  other  sex. 

What  became  of  all  this  bliss  ?  It  vanished  little 
6 


62  ERLACH  COURT. 

by  little,  as  the  snow  slowly  subsides,  filtering  into 

the  ground. 

******* 

"  I  know  myself,"  she  had  said  to  him  when  he 
wooed  her;  "  I  know  myself:  my  paralyzing  weak- 
ness will  pass  away,  as  will  your  intoxication." 

But  his  intoxication,  after  all,  lasted  longer  than 
her  weakness. 

After  they  had  been  married  about  five  years, 
their  second  daughter,  Estella,  was  born.  The 
mother's  health  was  terribly  undermined  for  a 
while.  Franz  surrounded  her  with  the  most  loving 
care,  but  she  no  longer  took  any  pleasure  in  it. 
The  fitful,  unnatural  glow  kindled  so  late  in  her 
heart  slowly  died  away ;  her  illusions  faded,  her 
passion  cooled.  Nothing  was  left  of  the  young 
spring  deity  of  her  imagination  who  had  roused 
her  heart  from  its  cold  wintry  sleep,  save  a  good- 
humoured,  ordinary  man  whose  society  offered 
her  no  attraction  and  whose  tenderness  wearied 
her. 

Then  came  the  campaign  of  '66.  When  he  left 
her  she  contrived  to  shed  a  couple  of  tears,  and 
during  the  fray  in  Bohemia  her  conscience  pricked 
her  terribly,  but  when  the  truce  was  proclaimed  she 
was  quite  indifferent  as  to  the  length  of  his  ab- 
sence ;  it  might  have  been  prolonged  ad  injinitum, 
for  all  she  cared.  When  he  came  home  at  the  end 
of  half  a  year  his  conscience  was  laden  with  a  first 


AN  EXPERIMENT.  63 

infidelity.  She  had  written  an  essay  upon  Don 
John  of  Austria. 

From  this  moment  the  downward  course  was 
rapid. 

If  he  could  but  have  had  a  comfortable  attractive 
home, he  might  perhaps  have  clung  to  it;  he  might 
have  felt  that  he  had  something  to  live  for,  some- 
thing to  prevent,  as  he  afterwards  expressed  it,  his 
'  going  to  the  devil.' 

But  he  daily  felt  more  and  more  of  a  stranger 
beneath  his  own  roof,  and  his  wife  did  nothing  now 
to  induce  him  to  stay  there ;  on  the  contrary,  his 
presence  bored  her, — a  fact  which  she  did  not 
always  conceal. 

For  a  little  while  he  restrained  himself,  and 
then 

All  the  brutal  instincts  of  his  nature  asserted 

themselves,  and  he  took  no  pains  to  subdue  them. 
*  #  *  *  *  *  * 

One  joy,  however,  was  his  all  through  this  dread- 
ful time, — his  youngest  daughter.  He  never  took 
much  pleasure  in  the  elder  of  the  two :  she  had 
inherited  all  her  mother's  caprice,  without  any  of 
her  talent. 

But  little  Stella  was  indeed  a  darling. 

When  she  was  between  one  and  two  years  old, 
at  a  time  when  his  comrades,  although  but  rarely, 
still  met  at  his  house  at  gay  little  suppers,  he  would 
go  up  to  the  nursery,  where  the  child  lay  in  bed, 


64  ERLACH  COURT. 

and  if  she  happened  to  be  awake  and  laughing  at 
his  approach  he  would  take  her  in  his  arms  just 
as  she  was  in  her  little  white  night-gown  and  cap 
and  carry  her  down-stairs  to  display  her.  She 
would  obediently  give  her  hand  to  every  guest, 
but  was  not  to  be  induced  to  unclasp  the  other 
arm  from  her  father's  neck.  He  petted  and 
caressed  her  while  his  friends  praised  his  pretty 
little  daughter. 

"When  she  had  grown  larger,  she  was  always  the 
first  to  run  to  meet  him  on  his  return  home  from 
parade.  Often  in  winter  when  his  cloak  was 
covered  with  snow  she  would  shrink  away  with  a 
laugh,  exclaiming,  "  Oh,  papa,  how  cold !  I  cannot 
touch  you." 

"  Come  here,"  he  would  say  to  her,  and,  open- 
ing his  cloak,  he  would  gather  her  up  in  his  arms. 
"  'Tis  warm  enough  here,  mouse,  is  it  not  ?"  And 
as  she  clung  to  him  he  would  close  the  cloak 
about  her,  and  she  would  thrust  her  hands  through 
the  opening  in  front  and  peep  out,  supremely 
happy. 

She  often  remembered  in  after-years  how  deli- 
cious it  had  been  to  nestle  against  her  father's 
broad  chest,  protected  in  the  darkness,  and  look 
out  into  the  world  through  a  narrow  crack. 

He  it  was  who  gave  her  her  first  alphabet-blocks, 
more  as  a  toy  than  by  way  of  instruction.  She 
ran  after  him  continually  to  show  him  the  words 


AN  EXPERIMENT.  65 

she  had  spelled  out  with  them,  taking  especial  de- 
light in  long  learned  expressions  of  which  she  did 
not  understand  a  syllable.  One  of  the  first  words 
she  put  together  upon  his  writing-table  as  she  sat 
upon  his  knee  was  '  phosphorescence.' 

He  laughed,  and  told  the  officers  of  it  at  the 
riding-school.  Poor  fellow!  He  was  secretly 
ashamed  of  his  wretched  home  and  his  matrimo- 
nial failure,  as  well  as  of  the  miserable  part  he 
played  in  his  household.  As  he  could  not  speak 

of  anything  else,  he  talked  of  his  child. 

*  *  ***** 

His  wife's  article  upon  Don  John  of  Austria 
appeared  meanwhile  in  *  The  Globe,'  and,  unfortu- 
nately, attracted  considerable  attention.  One  critic 
compared  the  author's  brilliant  style  to  that  of 
Macaulay.  -From  that  moment  she  lost  the  last 
remnant  of  interest  in  her  house  and  family. 

The  praise  which  her  article  received  went  to 
her  head  ;  she  recalled  how  when  a  young  girl  she 
had  been  called  a  genius,  and  how  it  had  been  said 
that  if  she  only  chose  to  take  the  slightest  pains 
she  could  excel  George  Sand  as  an  author,  Clara 
Schumann  as  a  pianiste,  and  Rachel  as  an  actress. 
Yes,  if  she  only  chose !  Now  she  did  choose. 
She  tried  her  hand  in  every  department  of  litera- 
ture, devised  plots  for  tragedies  and  romances,  and 
wrote  essays  upon  every  imaginable  social  problem, 
without  achieving  any  really  finished  or  useful  re- 

e  6* 


66  ERLACH  COURT. 

suit.  She  herself  was  quite  dissatisfied  with  her 
efforts,  but  she  never  ascribed  their  imperfection 
to  any  want  of  capacity,  but  always  to  the  fact 
that  the  free  flight  of  her  fancy  was  cramped  by 
her  domestic  cares.  Possessed  by  the  demon  of 
ambition,  she  turned  aside  from  everything  that 
could  absorb  her  time  or  hinder  her  in  the  mad 
pursuit  of  her  chimera.  Social  enjoyment  did 
not  exist  for  her :  she  secluded  herself  entirely  from, 
society.  If  her  husband  wished  to  see  his  com- 
rades he  could  find  them  at  the  club. 

Her  household  went  to  ruin.  It  was  long  before 
Meineck  ventured  to  remonstrate  with  his  highly- 
gifted  wife ;  but  at  last  scarcely  a  day  passed  with- 
out crimination  and  recrimination  between  the  pair. 
In  spite  of  his  faults  and  aberrations  from  the  right 
path,  he  was  exquisitely  fastidious  in  his  personal 
requirements  and  a  martinet  in  his  love  of  order ; 
his  wife's  slovenly  habits  and  the  disorder  of  her 
household  disgusted  him. 

"  Good  heavens !  who,"  he  sometimes  asked, 
angrily,  "  could  put  up  with  such  untidy  rooms  ? 
— all  the  doors  ajar,  the  drawers  half  open  and 
their  contents  tossed  in  like  hay;  the  servants  dirty 
and  ill  trained,  and  the  meals  served  in  a  way  to 
destroy  the  finest  appetite  !  Even  the  children  are 
neglected." 

There  came  at  last  to  be  terrible  scenes,  in  which 
Meineck  would  shout  and  swear  and  now  and  then 


AN  EXPERIMENT.  67 

shatter  to  pieces  some  chair  or  ottoman  that  stood 
in  his  way,  while  his  wife  sat  motionless  at  her 
writing-table,  now  and  then  uttering  some  cold, 
cutting  phrase,  her  pen  suspended  over  her  paper, 
longing  for  the  moment  when  she  should  be  left 
alone  '  to  work.' 

Yet  at  intervals  there  were  still  moments  when 
she  would  seize  the  helm  of  her  neglected  house- 
hold, would  set  things  straight,  and  would  preside 
in  tasteful  attire  at  a  well-ordered  table.  Her  in- 
born elegance  upon  such  occasions  could  not  but 
excite  admiration,  and  for  a  few  hours,  sometimes 
for  a  couple  of  days,  she  would  expend  her  talent 
upon  what  alone  employed  it  worthily,  in  promoting 
the  comfort  of  those  about  her. 

Upon  such  occasions  Meineck  would  torment  him- 
self with  self-reproach,  would  take  upon  himself 
the  entire  fault  of  her  shortcomings,  and  would, 
so  far  as  she  would  permit  him,  show  her  the 
most  devoted  attention.  Scarcely,  however,  did 
he  begin  to  have  faith  in  the  sunshine  when  it 
vanished. 

Moreover,  these  seasons  of  wondrous  amiability 
on  Karoline's  part  grew  rarer  and  briefer, — par- 
ticularly when  she  could  not  but  acknowledge 
that  her  literary  career  by  no  means  developed  so 
brilliantly  as  she  had  hoped  from  the  success  of 
her  Don  John  of  Austria.  She  sought  the  cause 
of  this,  as  has  been  said,  not  in  the  insufficiency 


68  ERLACH  COURT. 

of  her  own  talent,  but  in  the  cramping  nature  of 

her  domestic  circumstances. 

*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

One  evening — Stella  was  about  eleven  years  old 
— Meineck  came  home  intoxicated.  Chance  willed 
that  both  his  wife  and  his  daughters  saw  him  in 
this  condition. 

The  next  day  at  the  mid-day  meal  he  was  rather 
uncomfortable  in  their  presence,  and  consequently 
talked  more  and  faster  than  usual,  assuming  that 
air  of  bravado  which  some  men  are  sure  to  adopt 
when  they  are  particularly  embarrassed.  His 
affected  self-possession  vanished  very  soon,  how- 
ever. His  wife  merely  bestowed  upon  him  a  cold 
greeting,  and  then  entered  into  an  absorbing  con- 
versation with  Franziska,  the  elder  daughter,  upon 
some  abstruse  point  of  English  law.  She  and  the 
girl  both  avoided  looking  at  him,  and  sat  bolt 
upright,  with  virtuous  indignation  expressed  in 
every  feature. 

He  turned  from  them  to  his  loving  little  Stella. 
She  was  sitting,  pale  and  with  downcast  eyes, 
before  an  empty  plate.  Poor  little  Stella!  she 
too  had  been  affected  by  the  scene  of  the  evening 
before.  What  business  was  it  of  hers  ?  "Was  he 
the  only  man  in  the  world  who  had  ever  been  so 
overcome  ?  Was  that  chit  to  school  him  ?  For 
the  first  time  in  her  life  he  spoke  harshly  to 
her :  "  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  Why  do 


AN  EXPERIMENT.  69 

you  not  eat  ?  Are  you  ill  ?"  And,  beckoning  to 
the  servant,  he  put  something  upon  her  plate. 

She  took  up  her  knife  and  fork  obediently,  but 
she  could  not  swallow  a  morsel,  and  the  big  tears 
fell  upon  her  plate.  He  saw  them  perfectly  well, 
although  he  pretended  not  to  look  at  her. 

When  the  others  had  retired  and  he  sat  alone  at 
the  comfortless  board,  his  head  leaning  on  his  right 
hand,  his  left  drumming  a  tattoo  on  the  table,  as  he 
reflected  upon  his  squandered  life,  suddenly  a  little 
arm  stole  around  his  neck  and  two  tender  childish 
lips  were  pressed  to  his  temple.  He  started:  it 
was  Stella  !  He  took  her  on  his  knee  and  covered 
her  head,  her  neck,  even  her  little  hands,  with 
'kisses,  and  his  tears  fell  upon  her  brow.  Neither 

of  them  ever  forgot  that  moment. 

******* 

Soon  after  this  the  husband  and  wife  agreed  so 
far  as  to  find  their  life  together  intolerable,  and 
they  parted  by  mutual  consent.  Of  course  the 
mother  took  the  children;  what  could  Meiueck 
have  done  with  them  ?  The  legal  divorce,  with 
which  she  threatened  him  if  he  did  not  accede  to 
a  voluntary  separation,  would  undoubtedly  have 
assigned  them  to  her.  He  was  to  be  allowed  to 
spend  two  weeks  of  every  year  beneath  her  roof  to 
see  the  children.  These  arrangements  concluded, 
she  set  out  for  Florence  to  collect  materials  for  a 
history  of  the  Medici, — which  she  never  wrote. 


70  ERLACH  COURT. 

In  the  spring  he  went  to  her  at  Meran.  His 
position  in  her  household  was  so  painful,  however, 
that  he  did  not  stay  all  the  allowed  time :  he  felt 
disgraced  even  in  his  little  Stella's  eyes ;  she  seemed 
estranged  from  him. 

He  never  came  to  be  with  them  again.  He  often 
sent  his  daughters  beautiful  presents,  and  wrote 
them  long,  affectionate  letters,  but  he  made  no 
further  attempt  to  see  them. 

Years  passed.  Meineck  had  risen  to  the  rank  of 
colonel ;  his  wife  meanwhile  had  tramped  all  over 
the  map  with  her  daughters,  from  Madrid  to  Con- 
stantinople, to  collect  historical  material  for  all 
sorts  of  projected  essays.  She  was  now  at  her  mill 
in  Zalow,  partly  because  her  finances  were  at  a  low 
ebb,  and  partly  because  she  intended  at  last  to  begin 
her  great  work.  This  work  upon  which  she  had 
settled  definitively  was  *  The  Part  assigned  to 
Woman  in  the  Development  of  Universal  History/ 

Franziska,  who,  oddly  enough,  could  no  longer 
agree  with  her  mother,  was  lodging  in  Prague  with 
the  widow  of  a  government  official  who  rented  a 
few  rooms  to  teachers  and  bachelors,  and  preparing 
herself  in  a  bleak  little  apartment  to  pass  her  final 
examinations.  Poor  Stella,  who  had  meanwhile  shot 
up  into  a  tall  miss  of  eighteen,  went  to  Prague  by 
railway  three  times  a  week  in  summer  and  winter, 
always  alone,  to  take  lessons, — read  everything 
she  could  lay  hold  of,  from  Milton's  '  Paradise 


AN  EXPERIMENT.  71 

Lost'  to  Hauff's  *  Man  in  the  Moon,' — and  tramped 
about  the  country  escorted  by  a  very  savage  white 
wolf-hound. 

It  was  in  November,  and  the  ground  was  covered 
with  snow,  when  a  letter  arrived  from  the  colonel 
in  Venice  to  his  wife  and  daughters.  He  had  been 
ordered  to  a  southern  climate  on  account  of  an 
affection  of  the  lungs  which  had  not  yielded  to  a 
course  of  treatment  at  Gleichenberg,  and  he  had 
now  been  in  Venice  for  a  month.  If  his  daughters 
would  consent,  the  letter  went  on  to  say,  to  come 
to  cheer  his  loneliness  for  a  while,  he  would  do 
his  best  to  make  their  stay  in  Venice  agreeable  to 
them. 

Franziska  declared  that  she  could  not  possibly 
interrupt  her  studies  at  this  time ;  Stella  announced 
that  she  was  ready  to  set  off  on  the  instant.  Her 
mother  hesitated  to  allow  her  to  travel  alone,  and 
looked  about  for  a  suitable  escort  for  her,  but  Stella 
declared  that  she  needed  none.  Had  she  not  been 
to  Prague  continually  alone  by  the  railway  ?  and 
where  was  the  difference  in  going  to  Venice,  except 
that  it  was  farther  off?  Moreover,  there  were  car- 
riages for  ladies  only.  It  never  occurred  to  this 
valiant  young  person,  trained  to  economy  as  she 
had  been  by  her  learned  mother,  that  she  could 
travel  otherwise  than  second-class. 

Her  mother  enjoined  it  upon  her  not  to  waste 
her  time  in  Venice,  and  instead  of  a  luncheon 


72  ERLACH  COURT. 

stuffed  a  '  Histoire  de  Yenise'  into  her  travelling- 
bag.  The  girl  bought  her  ticket,  attended  to  her 
luggage  herself,  and  then  mounted  cheerily  into 
a  much  overheated  railway-carriage  and  was  borne 
away. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

A   RUINED   LIFE. 

How  she  rejoiced  in  the  prospect  of  seeing  him 
again,  looking  forward  to  the  joy  of  nestling  ten- 
derly in  his  arms  and  telling  him  how  she  had 
longed  for  him  during  the  many,  many  years, 
and  how  she  had  lain  awake  many  a  night  telling 
herself  stories  of  him, — that  is,  recalling  every 
little  incident  in  her  memory  with  which  he  was 
connected ! 

She  did  not  recall  him  as  she  had  last  seen 
him,  old  before  his  time,  with  dark  rings  around 
his  bloodshot  eyes  and  deep  wrinkles  at  the  corners 
of  his  mouth,  gray  and  worn;  no,  she  saw  him 
with  fair  curls  and  a  merry,  kindly  look,  sometimes 
in  his  dazzling  hussar-uniform,  but  oftener  in  his 
blue  undress-coat  with  breast-pockets.  She  could 
not  possibly  call  him  up  in  her  memory  without  an 
accompaniment  of  the  rattle  of  spurs  and  sabre. 


A  RUINED  LIFE.  73 

She  saw  his  shapely,  carefully-tended  hands;  she 
distinctly  remembered  the  fragrance  of  Turkish 
tobacco,  mingled  with  the  odour  of  jasmine,  with 
which  all  his  belongings  were  saturated. 

For  her  he  was  always  the  brilliant  young  officer 
who  had  muffled  her  in  his  cloak  when  she  ran 
to  meet  him. 

How  long  the  journey  seemed  to  her  at  first! 
Then  she  was  suddenly  assailed  by  a  strange 
timidity :  when  the  conductor  took  her  ticket  and 
announced  that  the  next  station  was  Venice  she 
began  to  tremble. 

The  train  stopped ;  the  conductor  opened  the 
door.  With  her  heart  throbbing  up  in  her  throat, 
she  looked  out,  but  saw  no  one  whom  she  knew. 
No,  her  father  had  evidently  not  come  to  meet 
her!  Could  he  have  failed  to  receive  her  tele- 
gram? She  noticed  a  gray-haired  man  in  civil- 
ian's dress,  with  a  crush-hat,  and  delicately  chiselled 
features  wasted  by  illness,  and  large  hollow  eyes, 
peering  about  as  if  he  were  looking  for  some  one. 
A  cold,  paralyzing  pang  shot  through  her :  his  look 
met  her  own.  While  he  had  lived  in  her  memory 
as  a  brilliant  young  officer,  she  had  always  been  for 
him  the  undeveloped  child  of  twelve,  with  tightly- 
stretched  red  stockings,  and  a  short  shapeless 
gown, — something  that  could  be  taken  on  his  lap 
and  caressed.  But  this  daughter  advancing  to- 
wards him  was  a  young  lady,  who  could  pass  judg- 


74  ERLACH  COURT. 

ment  upon,  him,  a  judgment  that  could  not  be 
bribed,  like  that  of  a  child,  by  caresses.  He 
asked  himself,  with  a  shudder,  how  much  she  knew 
of  his  life,  and  whether  she  were  capable  of  for- 
giving it,  forgetting,  in  his  dread,  that  a  woman 
will  forgive  everything  in  the  man  whom  she 
loves,  be  he  husband,  brothei^  or  father,  save  cow- 
ardice and  dishonour, — and  as  far  as  regarded  the 
point  d'honneur  the  colonel's  worst  enemy  could  find 
nothing  of  which  to  accuse  him. 

"Papa!" 

"Stella!"  Instead  of  clasping  her  in  his  arms, 
he  kissed  her  hand.  "  How  are  they  all  at  home  ?" 
he  asked,  embarrassed.  "  Is  your  mother  well  ?  and 
Franzi  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes  !  They  both  gave  me  all  sorts  of  kind 
messages  for  you.  Franziska,  unfortunately,  could 
not  come  with  me,  for  she  could  not  interrupt  her 
studies  at  this  time." 

What  frightfully  correct  German  she  spoke ! 
Had  they  robbed  him  of  his  little  Stella?  His 
annoyance  increased. 

"  Where  is  your  maid?"  he  asked. 

"  Maid  ?  I  have  none.  Oh,  we  have  not  had  a 
maid  for  a  long  time." 

"  You  came  all  the  way  alone  ?"  the  colonel  ex- 
claimed, in  dismay, — "  all  alone  ?" 

- "  Yes.     You  have  no  idea  how  independent  and 
practical  I  am." 


A   RUINED  LIFE.  75 

The  colonel  frowned ;  he  would  rather  have 
found  his  daughter  spoiled  and  helpless ;  but  he 
said  nothing,  only  asked  about  her  luggage  to  hand 
it  over  to  the  porter  of  the  Hotel  Britannia,  and 
then  offered  her  his  arm  to  conduct  her  to  the  gon- 
dola which  was  waiting  for  them.  Arrived  at  the 
hotel,  they  got  into  the  elevator  to  be  taken  to  the 
third  story,  and  they  had  as  yet  scarcely  exchanged 
three  words  with  each  other. 

The  pretty  little  salon  into  which  he  conducted 
her  looked  out  upon  the  Grand  Canal  and  past  the 
church  of  Santa  Maria  della  Salute  upon  the  Lido. 
The  room  was  pleasantly  warm,  and  in  the  centre 
a  table  was  invitingly  spread,  the  teakettle  sing- 
ing merrily,  flanked  by  a  flask  of  golden  Marsala 
and  a  bottle  of  Bordeaux.  A  prismatic  ray  of 
sunshine  fell  across  the  neat  creases  of  the  snowy 
table-cloth. 

"  Oh,  how  delightful !"  cried  Stella,  and  her  eyes 
sparkled,  while  in  her  delicate  and  softly-rounded 
cheek  appeared  the  dimple  for  which  her  father 
had  hitherto  looked  in  vain. 

"  I  had  a  little  breakfast  made  ready  for  you, 
thinking  that  you  might  perhaps  have  had  nothing 
very  good  to  eat  upon  your  journey,"  said  he. 

"  I  have  eaten  nothing  since  I  left  home  but 
biscuit,  because  I  disliked  going  to  the  railway 
restaurants,"  she  declared. 

And  the  colonel  rejoined,  "  Tiens  !  not  entirely  a 


76  ERLACH  COURT. 

strong-minded  female  yet,  I  see,"  and  as  he  spoke 
he  helped  her  take  off  her  long  brown  paletot. 
"If  I  am  not  mistaken,"  he  said,  examining  the 
clumsy  article  of  dress,  "this  is  an  old  army- 
cloak." 

"  Indeed  it  is,  papa,"  she  replied,  proudly,—"  one 
of  your  old  cloaks  :  I  had  it  altered  by  our  tailor 
in  Zalow,  because  it  reminds  me  of  old  times." 
And  this  was  all  she  could  bring  herself  to  say  of 
the  myriad  charming  and  loving  phrases  she  had 
prepared.  "  It  is  a  great  success,  my  coat.  Do 
you  not  like  it  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Candidly,  no;"  he  made  reply.  "  Nevertheless 
I  am  greatly  obliged  to  it  for  proving  to  me  that, 
even  in  the  clumsiest  and  ugliest  garment  ever  de- 
vised by  human  hands  to  disfigure  one  of  God's 
creatures,  my  daughter  is  still  charming." 

She  cast  down  her  eyes  with  a  little  blush  and 
was  suddenly  ashamed  of  her  threadbare  adapta- 
tion of  which  she  had  been  so  proud.  Kindly,  but 
still  with  some  hesitation,  he  put  his  hand  upon 
her  shoulder  and  said,  "  You  will  let  me  look  a 
little  more  closely  at  my  daughter." 

A  warm  wave  of  affection  suddenly  surged  up  in 
her  heart. 

"Do  not  look  at  me,  papa;  only  love  me,"  she 
exclaimed,  and,  throwing  her  arm  around  his  neck, 
she  nestled  close  to  him.  "You  cannot  imagine 
how  rejoiced  I  was  to  come  to  you." 


A   RUINED  LIFE.  77 

And  the  poor  wretch  reverently  bent  his  sad, 
weary  head  above  his  child's  golden  curls,  and  re- 
pentantly acknowledged  to  himself  that  he  had  not 

deserved  so  great  mercy. 

******* 

"When  daylight  had  faded  and  the  lanterns  at  the 
base  of  the  old  palaces  flared  up,  casting  reddish 
reflections  to  break  and  glimmer  upon  the  surface 
of  the  lagunes,  the  colonel  lit  the  lamp  and  put 
paper  and  writing-materials  upon  the  table  before 
Stella. 

"  Write  a  few  lines  to  your  mother,  my  darling, 
and  thank  her  for  sending  you  to  me."  Then, 
while  Stella  was  writing,  he  sat  opposite  to  her  for 
a  while  in  silence,  his  head  thoughtfully  leaning  on 
his  hand.  At  last  he  began :  "  Stella,  I  have  an 
impression  that  you  live  now  in  a  very  modest  way 
at  home.  Do  you  know  the  state  of  your  mother's 
finances  ?" 

"  Low,"  said  Stella,  laconically. 

"  Hm  !  I  really  do  not  know  how  much  is  neces- 
sary to  maintain  two  daughters ;  perhaps  I  do  not 
send  her  enough  for  you.  She  ought  to  have  let 
me  know.  I  do  not  wish  that  my  children  should 
be  pinched,  as — as " 

"  As  they  seem  to  be  from  the  looks  of  my  shabby 
wardrobe,"  Stella  said,  with  a  laugh.  "  Well,  we 
are  not  quite  so  badly  off,  after  all.  If  it  be  a 
question  of  buying  books  or  curios,  we  can  always 


78  ERLACK  COURT. 

scrape  the  money  together ;  but  if  one  wants  a  pair 
of  new  boots,  the  purse  is  empty." 

The  colonel  tugged  discontentedly  at  his  mous- 
tache. 

"  I  beg  you  to  write  to  Franzi  and  ask  her  if  she 
needs  money,"  he  began  afresh.  "  I  am,  to  be  sure, 
living  now  upon  my  capital,  but  your  share  is  se- 
cured to  you,  and  I  shall  not  last  long." 

At  first  his  meaning  escaped  her ;  she  gazed  at 
him  with  wide  eyes;  then,  as  she  comprehended  at 
last,  the  pen  fell  from  her  fingers,  and  she  burst  into 
a  flood  of  tears. 

"  Hush,  hush,  rhy  darling;  do  not  torment  your- 
self beforehand.  Perhaps  I  describe  my  condition 
to  you  as  worse  than  it  really  is,"  he  said,  leaning 
tenderly  over  her,  and,  putting  his  hand  beneath 
her  chin,  he  looked  deep  into  her  dark  eyes.  "  If 

sunshine  can  make  a  man  well  I  am  all  right." 
*,*  *  *  *  *  * 

No,  it  was  too  late, — too  late !  His  physical 
strength  could  never  be  restored,  his  lungs  noth- 
ing could  heal ;  but  with  his  child  beside  him  his 
soul  and  heart  gained  health  and  strength.  Since 
those  first  fair  years  of  his  married  life,  he  had 
never  been  so  happy  as  now,  although  he  seldom 
quite  forgot  that  he  stood  on  the  brink  of  the 
grave. 

Once,  on  a  damp  muggy  November  evening  in 
a  Viennese  suburb  he  had  seen  a  drunkard  stag- 


A  RUINED  LIFE.  79 

gering  along  the  wall  in  a  narrow  street,  quite 
unable  to  find  his  way.  A  policeman  was  just 
about  to  take  him  into  custody,  when  a  little  girl, 
muffled  in  rags  and  with  a  pale  wizened  face,  sud- 
denly appeared  beside  him  out  of  the  darkness, 
seized  him  by  his  red,  trembling,  swollen  hand, 
and  called  in  a  hoarse,  anxious  voice,  without  im- 
patience or  harshness,  but  not  without  authority, 
'  Father,  come  home  !'  And  the  drunkard,  who 
had  paid  no  heed  to  the  jeers  of  the  passers-by, 
nor  to  the  admonition  of  the  policeman,  hung  his 
head,  and  without  a  word  followed  the  weak,  help- 
less little  creature  like  a  lamb.  The  colonel  had 
stood  and  looked  after  them  until  the  darkness 
swallowed  them  up.  He  recalled  distinctly  the 
girl's  thin  yellow  braids,  her  long  chin,  the  sordid 
red-and-black  plaid  shawl  which  she  wore  about 
her  shoulders,  and  the  worn  old  laced  boots,  far 
too  big  for  her  little  feet  and  coming  half-way  up 
her  naked  little  blue  legs,  and  continually  in  her 
way  as  she  walked. 

The  little  episode  had  made  a  painful  impression 
upon  him  for  a  time,  arid  then  he  had  forgotten  it. 
Now  it  arose  in  his  memory,  but  transfigured,  and 
as,  clasping  his  daughter's  hand,  he  went  on  to  his 
grave,  he  compared  himself  in  his  secret  soul  with 

the  drunkard  led  home  by  the  child. 

******* 

He  was  very  ill.     Unaccustomed  to  spare  him- 


gO  ERLACH  COURT. 

self,  and  without  any  real  pleasure  in  life,  he  had 
increased  his  malady  by  months  of  entire  want  of 
care  and  nursing,  until  his  ph}?sicians  had  insisted 
that  a  summer  should  be  spent  at  a  sanitarium  in 
Gleichenberg.  Partially  restored,  he  had  imme- 
diately, in  direct  opposition  to  all  advice,  re-entered 
the  service.  The  autumn  manoauvres  had  brought 
on  an  inflammation  of  the  lungs.  How  very  ill 
he  was  never  entered  his  mind,  in  spite  of  his 
speech  to  Stella.  He  thought  he  should  live  a 
couple  of  years  longer,  and  his  great  dread  was 
lest  he  should  be  pensioned  off  before  the  time 
because  of  his  invalid  condition.  The  pains  that 
he  took  to  maintain  an  upright  military  bearing 
aggravated  all  the  evils  of  his  case. 

There  were  a  number  of  distinguished  Austrians 
in  the  Hotel  Britannia,  some  few  of  them  invalids, 
most  of  them  gay  and  pleasure-loving  and  well 
pleased  to  spend  a  few  weeks  amid  picturesque 
surroundings  and  in  pleasant  society.  The  colonel 
was  beloved  by  all,  and  they  eagerly  welcomed 
his  pretty  daughter,— even  the  ladies,  whom  the 
colonel  consulted  as  to  the  necessary  reform  in  the 
girl's  wardrobe.  She  sat  with  her  father  in  the 
midst  of  them  all  at  the  upper  end  of  the  table, 
the  lower  end,  where  the  other  inmates  of  the 
hotel  were  crowded  together,  being  the  subject 
of  much  merry  scorn  and  stigmatized  as  *  the 
menagerie.'  Compassion  for  the  daughter  of  the 


A  RUINED  LIFE.  gl 

dying  man  deepened  the  sympathy  called  forth  by 
the  young  girl's  grace  and  charm.  Old  gentlemen 
rallied  her  upon  her  conquests,  and  the  young 
men  paid  her  devoted  attention.  She  had  a  special 
friend  in  the  handsome  black-eyed  prince  Zino 
Capito,  who  had  an  unusual  share  of  time  to  be- 
stow upon  her  since  the  latest  mistress  of  his  affec- 
tions, the  famous  Princess  Oblonsky,  had  just  de- 
parted for  Petersburg  to  take  possession  of  the 
effects  of  her  husband,  suddenly  deceased.  He 
daily  sent  Stella  magnificent  flowers  with  which 
to  adorn  the  hotel  apartments  for  her  father. 
"  Invalids  are  so  fond  of  flowers,"  he  would  say, 
with  a  smile  that  displayed  his  brilliant  white 
teeth.  And  when  the  weather  was  fine  and  the 
colonel  felt  well  enough,  he  would  invite  them  to 
take  a  sail  in  his  cutter  upon  the  blue  Adriatic. 

The  colonel  often  spoke  of  his  wife,  longing  to 
see  her.  The  last  liaison — that  which  had  been  the 
cause  of  a  definite  separation  between  himself  and 
his  wife,  had  robbed  him  of  his  self-respect,  had  dis- 
graced him  in  his  children's  eyes,  and  had  snatched 
from  him  every  vestige  of  peace  of  mind — had 
dissolved  itself  more  than  two  years  before.  The 
recollection  of  it  disgusted  him.  but,  like  all  men 
who  have  no  future,  he  gladly  allowed  his  thoughts 
to  stray  into  the  distant  past.  The  wife  from  whom 
he  had  parted,  elderly,  learned,  with  her  slovenli- 
ness and  irritability,  he  had  forgotten ;  his  memory 


82  ERLACH  COURT. 

preserved  the  bride,  in  her  light  dress,  hending 
above  his  couch  of  pain ;  he  saw  her  on  his  mar- 
riage-day in  the  flood  of  sunlight  which  streaming 
through  the  tall  window  of  his  sick-room  invested 
with  a  glorious  halo  the  golden  cross  upon  the  im- 
provised altar. 

One  sunny  day,  as  he  was  sailing  in  the  Grand 
Canal  in  a  gondola  with  Stella,  he  pointed  to  a 
beautiful  old  palazzo. 

"  There  is  where  I  lay  wounded  in  '59,  when 
your  mother  came  to  nurse  me.  Those  windows 
there  were  mine." 

In  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  while  Stella  was 
writing  to  her  mother  and  he  lay  half  dozing  on  a 
lounge,  he  suddenly  said,  "  Stella,  do  you  think 
your  mother  could  make  up  her  mind  to  come  to 
Venice  with  Franzi  for  a  few  weeks?  She  need 
not  be  in  the  same  house  with  us,  if  that  would 

bore  her,  but Tell  her  how  much  it  would 

please  me  to  see  her ;  and,"  he  added,  with  an  em- 
barrassed smile,  "  tell  her  I  am  really  very  ill : 
perhaps  that  may  induce  her  to  come." 

He  awaited  the  reply  to  this  letter  with  feverish 
eagerness.  In  a  week  there  arrived  a  package  of 
rather  insignificant  notices  of  a  work  of  his  wife's, 
just  published  at  her  own  expense  ;  two  weeks  later 
the  answer  to  the  letter  appeared. 

"  Well,  what  does  your  mother  say?"  asked  the 
colonel,  as  he  observed  Stella  deciphering  the 


A   RUINED  LIFE.  83 

almost  illegible  document.  "  Read  it  aloud  to 
me,"  he  insisted  :  "  you  know  everything  that  goes 
on  at  home  interests  me.  Is  she  coming  ?" 

But  Stella,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  a  burning 
blush,  stammered,  "  A  letter  must  have  been  lost. 
This  one  never  even  mentions  our  plan  !" 

The  colonel  turned  away  and  looked  out  of  the 
window  at  the  East  India  steamship. 

"  'Tis  a  pity  !"  he  sighed,  in  an  undertone,  aftei 
a  while.  "  I  should  have  liked  to  ask  her  forgive- 
ness." 

******* 

Although  upon  Stella's  arrival,  when  he  felt 
better,  he  had  spoken  continually  and  with  ap- 
parent satisfaction  of  his  approaching  death,  from 
the  time  when  he  began  to  decline  rapidly  he 
avoided  all  reference  to  his  condition.  The 
doctor  visited  him  daily,  sometimes  oftener,  and 
would  drink  a  glass  of  sherry  with  him  while  re- 
counting his  brilliant  exploits  in  the  way  of  res- 
toration to  health  of  patients  whose  condition  was 
even  worse  than  the  colonel's.  But  after  a  while 
he  grew  less  confident,  and  at  last  towards  the  end 
of  April  he  proposed  an  operation  for  the  relief  of 
the  lungs.  The  colonel  eyed  him  fixedly,  and  sent 
Stella  out  of  the  room. 

"  How  long  a  time  do  you  give  me  ?"  he  asked. 
"  Be  frank.  I  am  a  soldier,  and  not  afraid  to  die." 

"  Under  the  circumstances,  a  couple  of  months." 


84  ERLACH  COURT. 

"I  understand.  Say  nothing  to  my  daughter, 
but  let  matters  take  their  course.  It  is  all  right." 

That  evening  he  sat  writing  for  an  hour,  never 
stirring  from  his  writing-table.  Suddenly  he  grew 
restless,  and  ended  by  tearing  up  what  he  had 
written. 

"  Stella,  come  here  !"  he  called ;  and  as  she  came 
to  him,  "  Don't  cry,  darling, — it  distresses  me  so 
that  I  lose  my  wits ;  and  I  need  them  all.  I  wanted 
to  write  out  my  will ;  but  it  is  useless.  Your  little 
property  is  secure,  and  you  must  divide  the  rest :  I 
cannot  show  you  any  partiality.  It  is  terrible  to 
think  of  dying  here,  but,  if  it  must  be,  do  not 
leave  me  in  Venice,  in  a  strange  country.  Bury 
me  near  you  in  Zalow, — your  mother  knows  the 
spot;  she  will  bear  with  me  in  the  churchyard." 
He  took  a  little  golden  locket  from  his  breast- 
pocket. "  Take  care  of  that,"  he  said :  "  it  is  the 
locket  your  mother  sent  me  in  the  campaign  of 
'59,  and  she  must  hang  it  around  my  neck  before 
they  lay  me  in  the  grave.  Beg  her  to  do  this.  Do 
you  understand,  Stella?" 

She  sat  opposite  him  at  the  little  round  table, 
very  pale,  but  perfectly  upright  and  without  a  tear, 
just  as  he  would  have  had  her. 

"Yes,  papa." 
******* 

The  next  day  was  her  birthday. 

He  gave  her  a  golden  bracelet  to  which  was  at- 


A  RUINED  LIFE.  85 

tached   a  crystal  locket  containing  a  four-leaved 
clover. 

"  I  cannot  show  you  any  partiality  in  my  will," 
Baid  he,  "  but  wear  that  for  my  sake,  darling.  And 
if  ever  heaven  sends  you  some  great  joy,  say  to 
yourself  that  your  poor  father  prayed  the  dear  God 

that  it  might  fall  to  your  share  !" 

******* 

One  day  the  colonel  received  a  letter  bearing  a 
Paris  post-mark  which  seemed  to  depress  him 
greatly.  All  day  after  receiving  it  he  was  thought- 
ful and  taciturn.  In  the  evening  he  wrote  a  long 
letter,  pausing  from  time  to  time  to  cough  sadly. 
As  he  folded  it,  Stella  observed  that  he  enclosed 
money  in  it.  After  apparently  reflecting  for  a 
while,  he  drew  from  a  case  in  his  pocket  a  photo- 
graph of  Stella  which  had  been  taken  in  Venice, 
gazed  at  it  lovingly  for  a  moment,  seemed  to 
hesitate,  and  finally  enclosed  it  also  in  the  en- 
velope with  the  letter.  Looking  up,  he  became 
aware  of  his  daughter's  curious  gaze,  and  suddenly 
grew  confused.  He  sealed  his  epistle  with  unneces- 
sary care,  and  then  all  at  once  reached  both  hands 
across  the  table  and  clasped  Stella's  between  them, 
saying,— 

"  You  are  wondering  to  whom  I  am  sending  my 
darling's  picture?  To  my  youngest  sister,  your 
aunt  Eugenie.  Do  you  remember  her  ?  Yes  ? 
You  used  to  love  her,  did  you  not  ?" 

8 


86  ERLACH  COURT. 

"Very  much,  papa;  but — I  thought  she  was 
dead."  * 

The  colonel  turned  away  his  head;  after  a 
moment  he  drew  Stella  towards  him,  and  said, 
softly,  "  She  is  not  dead :  I  cannot  tell  you  about 
her, — do  not  ask  me.  But — do  not  be  hard  to  her, 
and  if  you  should  ever  meet  her,  speak  a  kind 

word  to  her,  for  my  sake." 

******* 

He  still  went  daily  below-stairs  in  the  lift  to 
take  his  meals,  but  he  now  dined  at  a  small  table 
alone  with  Stella,  after  the  table-d'hote  in  the  spa- 
cious, lonely  dining-hall.  His  frequent  attacks  of 
coughing  made  him  shun  society.  He  dreaded 
annoying  others. 

"  I  am  no  longer  fit  to  mingle  with  my  kind, 
Stella,"  he  would  say.  "  My  poor  little  butterfly, 
it  is  tiresome  to  have  such  a  father,  is  it  not  ?" 

She,  apparently,  did  not  find  it  so.  She  desired 
nothing  beyond  the  privilege  of  taking  care  of  him, 
although  she  could  be  little  more  than  a  weak, 
helpless  child.  By  day  she  cheered  him  with  her 
lively  talk,  and  at  night  if  he  stirred  she  was  be- 
side his  bed  in  an  instant  in  her  long  dressing- 
gown,  her  little  bare  feet  thrust  into  slippers,  sup- 
porting him  in  her  arms  if  he  coughed.  Outside  the 
moon  shone  full  above  the  church  of  Santa  Maria 
della  Salute.  Up  from  the  garden  was  wafted 
the  odour  of  roses  and  syringas,  while  above  the 


A   RUINED  LIFE.  87 

swampy  atmosphere  of  the  lagunes,  and  mingling 
with  the  plash  of  waters  at  the  base  of  the  old 
palaces,  floated  sweet,  sad  melodies, — the  songs  of 
the  evening  minstrels  of  Venice, — 

"  Vorrei  baciar  i  tuoi  capelli  neri," 

and 

"  Penso  alia  prima  volta  in  cui  volgesti 
Lo  sguardo  soave  in  sino  a  me  I" 

Sometimes  she  would  fall  asleep  sitting  beside 

his  bed,  her  head  resting  on  his  pillow. 

******* 

She  grew  to  look  like  a  shadow,  so  pale  and 
worn  did  she  become.  He  did  all  that  he  could 
to  prevent  her  from  coming  to  him  at  night,  even 
threatening  to  employ  a  nurse,  but  the  threat  was 
never  fulfilled. 

In  fact,  he  needed  very  little  care  but  such  as 
her  affection  insisted  upon  giving  him ;  he  was 
never  confined  to  bed,  only  grew  more  and  more 
inclined  to  rest  on  a  lounge  during  the  day.  He 
was  very  thoughtful  of  others,  and  required  but 
little  service  at  their  hands  up  to  the  very  last, 
only  seldom  demanding  any  assistance  in  dressing. 
He  grew  nervous  and  restless,  longed  for  change, 
yearned  for  his  home  with  the  fervent  desire  of  a 
dying  man.  Before  his  mental  vision  hovered  the 
picture  of  the  old  mill,  with  its  old-fashioned  garden, 
the  small  sparse  forest  with  feathery  underbrush 
at  the  foot  of  the  knotty  oaks,  and  the  gray  waters 


"38  ERLACH  COURT. 

of  the  stream  that  wound  through  the  autumn 
mist  hetween  bald  stony  banks.  He  felt  an  insane 
desire  to  see  it  all  once  more.  For  a  long  time 
he  endured  this  yearning  in  silence,  not  venturing 
to  express  it;  his  wife  had  repulsed  all  advances 
of  his  too  decidedly.  But,  good  heavens !  he 
needed  so  little  room,  he  would  not  trouble  her 
much ;  and  then,  besides,  he  was  an  old  man,  ill 
unto  death :  his  demands  upon  her  personally  were 
restricted  to  a  kind  word  now  and  then,  a  sym- 
pathetic pressure  of  the  hand ! 

Meanwhile,  he  grew  worse  and  worse.  Other 
complications  heightened  the  peril  in  which  he 
stood  from  the  original  disease.  He  complained 
that  he  could  no  longer  endure  the  food  at  the 
hotel.  His  physician,  who,  like  all  physicians  at 
health-resorts,  avoided  as  far  as  possible  the  annoy- 
ance of  having  his  patients  die  on  his  hands,  strongly 
advised  a  change  of  air. 

Utterly  dejected,  his  face  turned  away  from  her, 
the  dying  man  begged  Stella  to  ask  her  mother  if 
he  might  come  home. 

But  Stella  had  already  asked,  and  shortly  after- 
wards an  answer  was  received.  The  Baroness 
wrote  that  now,  as  ever,  she  was  prepared  to  do 
her  duty, — to  receive  him,  and  take  care  of  him. 
The  mill  was  always  open  to  him. 

How  he  rejoiced  in  the  prospect  of  home !  He 
tried  to  help  in  the  packing,  but  he  was  too 


A   RUINED   LIFE.  89 

languid.  From  his  lounge  he  looked  on  while 
Stella  managed  it  all,  and  now  and  then  with  a 
smile  he  would  call  her  to  him,  only  to  stroke  her 
hands  and  look  into  her  dear,  loving  eyes. 

At  last  they  set  out.  It  was  Easter  Monday,  in 
the  latter  half  of  April;  the  bells  were  all  ringing 
solemnly,  and  dazzling  sunshine  lay  upon  the  dark 
waters  of  the  lagunes. 

All  their  acquaintance  at  the  hotel  surrounded 
the  father  and  daughter  as  they  stepped  into  their 
gondola.  The  little  vessel  was  filled  with  flowers, 
farewell  tokens  to  Stella,  and  from  the  balconies 
of  the  hotel  many  a  white  kerchief  waved  adieu  to 

the  travellers. 

******* 

At  first  they  journeyed  by  short  stages,  sometimes 
taking  a  roundabout  route  for  the  sake  of  better 
lodgings  at  night,  stopping  at  Villach  and  at  Gratz. 
Then  the  colonel  grew  anxiously  eager  to  be  at 
home;  he  could  no  longer  restrain  his  impatience. 
From  Gratz  he  insisted  upon  making  one  journey 
of  it,  during  which  they  had  to  change  conveyances 
frequently.  Every  one  was  kind,  showing  all  man- 
ner of  attention, to  the  sick  man  and  his  pretty, 
loving,  tender  daughter.  With  every  hour  he  be- 
came more  weak  and  miserable.  The  last  change 
they  made  he  could  scarcely  manage  to  descend 
from  the  rail  way- carriage  :  two  porters  were  obliged 
to  help  him  into  the  other  coupe. 


90  ERLACH  COURT. 

It  was  one  of  those  first-class  half-coupes  for 
three  occupants.  Stella  had  not  been  able  to  pro- 
cure for  him,  as  hitherto,  an  entire  carriage,  and 
we  all  know  how  deceptive  is  the  ease  of  those 
half-coupes. 

The  girl  propped  her  father  up  with  rugs  and 
cushions  so  that  he  found  his  position  tolerable,  and 
he  fell  asleep.  The  afternoon  passed,  and  twilight 
came  on.  Greenish-yellow  tints  coloured  the  hori- 
zon, and  a  small  white  crescent  gleamed  above  the 
darkening  earth.  Through  the  open  window  of 
the  coupe  came  the  warm,  balmy  air  of  the  spring. 
Sometimes  there  mingled  with  the  acrid,  searching 
odour  of  the  undeveloped  foliage  the  full,  sweet  fra- 
grance of  some  blossoming  fruit-tree.  A  scarcely 
perceptible  breeze  swept  gently  and  caressingly 
over  the  meadows,  and  lightly  rippled  the  sur- 
face of  the  large  quiet  pond  past  which  the  train 
rushed.  Here  and  there  the  level  landscape  was 
dotted  by  a  village, — long  barns  and  hay-ricks 
covered  with  blackened  straw,  grouped  irregularly 
about  some  little  church  or  castle  among  trees  white 
with  blossoms  or  pale  green  with  opening  leaf-buds. 

The  colonel  slept  on.  Suddenly  Stella  perceived 
that  she  had  lost  her  bracelet, — the  one  with  the 
four-leaved  clover.  She  moved  with  a  sudden 
start.  The  colonel  awoke. 

"  Where  are  we  ?"  he  asked. 

"In  an  hour  we  shall   be  at  home:  it  is  only 


A  RUINED  LIFE.  91 

three  stations  off,"  she  said,  soothingly,  with  a 
heating  heart. 

He  bent  his  head,  folded  his  hands,  and  pre- 
pared to  wait  patiently.  But  it  was  impossible  :  a 
deadly  anguish  assailed  him.  He  looked  round  in 
despair  like  some  trapped  animal. 

"  I  am  ill !"  he  cried.  "  I  cannot  tell  what  ails 
me.  I  never  felt  so  before !" 

He  coughed  convulsively,  but  briefly,  then  tried 
to  move  the  cushions  so  that  his  head  might  find  a 
more  comfortable  resting-place. 

"Take  more  room,  papa;  lay  your  head  in  my 
lap,"  Stella  entreated,  tenderly. 

He  did  so.  He  laid  his  head  on  her  knees,  and, 
taking  her  hand  in  his,  held  it  against  his  cheek. 
The  feverish  unrest  which  had  hitherto  throbbed 
throughout  his  frame  subsided,  giving  place  to  a 
delicious  desire  to  sleep.  For  the  last  time  the 
vision  rose  upon  his  mind  of  the  drunken  father 
being  led  home  by  his  little  girl ;  then  all  grew 
indistinct.  He  dreamed ;  he  thought  he  was  stag- 
gering painfully  through  a  bog,  when  some  one 
took  him  by  the  hand  and  led  him  across  a  narrow 
bridge  beneath  which  gleamed  dark,  slowly-flowing 
water.  He  looked  down ;  it  was  Stella  who  was 
leading  him,  but  Stella  as  a  little  three-year-old 
child,  with  her  simple  little  white  night-cap  tied 
beneath  her  chin,  her  rosy  little  bare  feet  show- 
ing beneath  the  hem  of  her  white  night-gown. 


92  ERLACH  COURT. 

The  bridge  creaked  beneath  him ;  he  started  and 
awoke. 

"  Are  we  at  home  ?"  he  asked,  scarce  audibly. 

"  Almost,  papa." 

He  pressed  her  hand  to  his  lips. 

The  twilight  deepened ;  a  dark  transparent  mist 
seemed  to  veil  the  sky;  the  heavens  showed  as 
if  through  thin  mourning  crape ;  the  broad  shining 
edges  of  the  ponds  and  pools  were  dim;  the 
crescent  moon  grew  brighter. 

The  train  whizzed  along  faster  than  ever,  sway- 
ing from  side  to  side  on  the  sleepers.  Suddenly 
Stella  felt  her  -father  start  violently;  then  he 
heaved  a  brief  sigh,  like  that  which  one  gives  when 
surprised  by  anything  unexpectedly  delightful,  or 
when  one  is  suddenly  relieved  of  a  heavy  burden. 
Then  all  was  quiet, — quiet, — still  as  death  !  She 
bent  over  him  and  listened.  In  vain  !  She  felt  his 
hand  grow  cold  and  stift'  in  her  own.  A  sudden 
anguish  took  possession  of  her.  She  was  afraid 
in  the  darkness.  Meanwhile,  the  lamp  in  the 
coupe  was  lighted.  Its  crude,  yellow  light  fell 
upon  the  colonel's  face. 

Was  he  asleep,  or She  held  her  own  breath 

to  listen  for  his.  Her  heart  beat  as  though  it  would 
break ;  no  longer  able  to  control  her  distress,  she 
called,  "  Papa !"  then  louder,  «  Papa  !  Papa  !"  He 
did  not  answer. 

The  night-moths  fluttered  in  through  the  open 


A  RUINED  LIFE.  93 

window  and  circled  about  the  lamp;  the  fragrance 
of  the  blossoming  cherry-trees  filled  the  air ;  a 
cracked  church-bell  in  the  distance  hoarsely  tolled 
the  Ave  Maria. 

In  an  undertone  Stella  prayed  l  Our  Father ;' 
but  in  the  midst  of  it  she  burst  into  a  convulsive 
fit  of  sobbing :  she  stroked  and  caressed  the  cold 
cheeks,  the  thin  gray  hair,  of  the  dead.  She  knew 
that  before  many  minutes  were  over  he  would  be 
taken  from  her,  and  with  him  everything  dear  to 
her  in  life. 

Onward  rushed  the  train.  The  fiery  sparks  flew 
like  rain  past  the  windows;  there  was  a  shrill 
whistle, — then  a  stop.  The  journey's  end  was 

reached. 

******* 

Her  mother  and  sister  had  come  to  the  station 
to  meet  them.  When  the  conductor  opened  the 
door,  Stella  sat  motionless,  her  father's  head  resting 
upon  her  knees. 

It  was  dark.  The  stars  gleamed  in  the  blue-black 
heavens. 

Mute  and  pale  as  the  dead,  the  Baroness  walked 
with  Franziska  and  Stella  behind  her  husband's 
corpse  the  short  distance  between  the  station  and 
the  mill.  Some  awkwardness  on  the  part  of  the 
bearers  released  one  arm  of  the  dead  man,  and  the 
hand  fell  and  trailed  on  the  earth.  With  a  quick 
impetuous  movement  his  wife  took  it  in  her  own, 


94  ERLACH  COURT. 

pressed  the  cold,  dead  hand  to  her  lips,  and  held 
it  clasped  in  hers  the  rest  of  the  way. 

They  laid  the  body  in  the  fresh,  white  bed,  fra- 
grant with  lavender  and  orris,  which  had  been  pre- 
pared for  the  sick  man  in  the  corner  room  he  had 
so  loved,  and  in  which  the  Baroness  had  placed  a 
bouquet  of  white  hawthorn  in  honour  of  his  arrival. 

Two  candles  were  burning  at  the  head  of  the 
bed. 

Stella,  who  had,  as  it  were,  turned  to  marble,  mov- 
ing and  speaking  like  an  automaton,  suddenly  grew 
restless.  She  seemed  to  have  forgotten  something, 
and  then  looked  for  and  found  the  locket  which  the 
colonel  had  given  her  for  her  mother,  and  which  she 
had  ever  since  worn  around  her  neck.  Very  dis- 
tinctly and  monotonously  she  repeated  the  dying 
man's  message  and  request  as  she  handed  the  locket 
to  her  mother. 

"  He  begs  you  will  hang  this  around  his  neck 
before  they  lay  him  in  the  grave;  and  once  he 
said  he  should  have  liked  once  more  to  ask  your 
forgiveness." 

The  Baroness  took  the  little  case  from  her 
child's  hand.  She  grew  paler  than  ever,  and 
her  eyes  were  those  of  one  startled  by  an  inward 
vision  of  a  long-forgotten  past.  The  hawthorn 
shed  a  delicious  fragrance ;  outside,  the  breeze  of 
spring  sighed  among  the  weeping-willows,  the 
brook  gurgled  and  sobbed. 


A  RAINY  EVENING.  95 

All  in  an  instant  the  old,  gray-haired  woman's 
hands  began  to  tremble  violently. 

"  Leave  me  alone  with  him  for  a  moment,"  she 
softly  entreated ;  and  Stella  slipped  away. 

In  the  terrible  week  ensuing  upon  that  wretched 
evening  the  Baroness  treated  Stella  with  an  un- 
varying and  altogether  pathetic  tenderness  ;  in  that 
week  Stella  learned  to  comprehend  what  an  irre- 
sistible charm  this  woman  had  been  able  to  exer- 
cise,— learned  to  understand  how  longing  for  her, 
even  after  years  of  separation,  had  gnawed  at  the 
heart  of  the  dying  man. 

Then,  to  be  sure,  everything  ran  its  old  course, 
with  the  sole  exception  that  the  widow  never 
uttered  in  the  presence  of  her  children  one  unkind 
word  with  regard  to  their  father,  but  often  alluded 
before  them  to  his  fine  qualities. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

A   RAINY   EVENING. 

IT  has  been  raining  all  the  afternoon, — it  is 
raining  still.  The  inmates  of  Erlach  Court  are 
house-bound.  Freddy,  because  of  disobedience, 
and  in  consequence  of  his  sneezing  thrice  during 
the  afternoon,  has  been  sent  to  bed  early  and  sen- 


96  ERLACH  COURT. 

tenced  to  a  dose  of  elder-flower  tea.  His  elders, 
instead  of  spending  the  evening,  as  usual,  in  the 
open  air,  are  assembled  in  the  drawing-room. 

Stasy  has  for  the  twentieth  time  finished  '  Paul 
and  Virginia,'  and  is  now  devoting  herself  to 
another  kind  of  literature,  Zola's  '  Joie  de  vivrc,' — 
of  course  only  that  she  may  testify  to  the  horror 
with  which  such  a  book  must  inspire  her.  Every 
few  minutes  she  utters  an  indignant  '  no !'  in  an 
undertone,  or  holds  out  the  book  to  Katrine,  one 
hand  over  her  blushing  face,  with  "  That  is  really 
too  bad !"  Katrine,  however,  shows  no  inclination 
to  participate  in  her  horror ;  she  waves  the  book 
aside,  saying,  "  I  do  not  care  to  read  everything," 
and  goes  on  crochetting  at  the  afghan  which  is  to 
be  ready  for  Freddy's  approaching  birthday. 

The  Baroness  Meineck,  meanwhile,  is  playing 
chess,  the  only  game  which  she  does  not  despise, 
with  the  general ;  and  the  captain  is  idling. 

Hitherto  Stella  has  been  singing  to  her  own  ac- 
companiment, for  the  entertainment  of  the  com- 
pany, the  pretty  Italian  songs  she  caught  from  the 
gondoliers  on  the  Canal.  She  is  still  sitting  at 
the  piano,  but  she  has  stopped  singing.  Her  slen- 
der hands  touch  the  keys  of  the  instrument,  play- 
ing softly  now  and  then  a  couple  of  bars  from  a 
Chopin  mazourka,  as  she  looks  up  at  Rohritz,  who, 
with  both  elbows  on  the  top  of  the  piano,  leans  to- 
wards her,  talking. 


A  RAINY  EVENING.  97 

"  How  interested  Rohritz  seems  in  his  talk  with 
Stella  !  he  is  quite  transformed,"  Leskjewitsch  re- 
marks. 

"  He  must  answer  when  he  is  addressed,"  Stasy 
rejoins,  sharply,  looking  up  from  her  '  Joie  de  vivre.' 

"  If  he  does  not  like  to  talk  to  the  girl  he  can  go 
away,"  the  captain  observes.  "  She  has  not  nailed 
him  to  the  piano." 

"  He-he !  she  nails  htm  with  her  eyes.  Do  you 
not  see  how  she  ogles  him  ?"  Stasy  replies,  with  a 
giggle.  "  I  wonder  what  he  is  telling  her." 

"  He  is  talking  of  Mexico,  and  of  the  phosphores- 
cence of  the  tropical  seas,"  the  captain  says,  curtly. 

"  Indeed  ?  nothing  more  sentimental  and  personal 
than  that?  Since,  then,  it  is  not  indiscreet,  I  think 
I  will  listen."  And,  clapping  to  her  book,  Anastasia 
stretches  her  long  thin  neck  to  hear. 

It  is  very  quiet  in  the  large  apartment ;  except 
for  the  monotonous  drip  of  the  rain  outside,  and 
the  click  made  by  setting  down  the  pieces  on  the 
chess-board,  there  is  nothing  to  interfere  with  those 
who  wish  to  listen  to  the  conversation  at  the  piano. 

"  Knowing  only  the  poor  little  sparks  which  you 
have  seen  twinkling  through  our  Northern  ocean 
on  warm  September  evenings,  you  can  form  no 
idea  of  the  gleaming  splendour  of  the  tropical  seas, 
Fraulein  Meineck.  The  nights  I  spent  on  the  deck 
of  the  Europa  on  my  Mexican  voyage  I  never  can 
forget,"  says  Rohritz. 


98  ERLACU  COURT. 

Stella,  who  has  hitherto  shown  a  genuine  interest 
in  all  he  has  told  her,  suddenly  assumes  a  whimsi- 
cally wise  air,  and,  striking  a  dissonant  chord,  asks, 
"  How  old  were  you  then  ?" 

"  I  really  do  not  understand "  he  remarks,  in 

some  surprise. 

"  Oh,  there  is  no  necessity  for  your  understand- 
ing,— only  for  replying,"  she  rejoins,  very  calmly. 

"  Twenty-four." 

It  is  one  of  her  peculiarities,  the  result  of  her 
desultory  and  imperfect  training,  that  she  often 
plunges  into  a  discussion  of  topics  which  every 
well-trained  girl  should  carefully  avoid. 

"Twenty-four,"  she  repeats,  thoughtfully;  then, 
pursuing  her  inquiries,  "  And  were  you  in  love  ?" 

He  laughs  in  some  confusion. 

"  You  are  putting  me  through  an  examination." 

"  I  allow  you  the  same  privilege,"  she  declares, 
magnanimously.  "Your  answer  sounds  evasive. 
Apparently  you  were  in  love.  I  merely  wanted  to 
know,  that  I  might  judge  how  large  a  percentage 
of  romance  I  must  deduct  from  your  description. 
All  things  considered,  I  can  no  longer  accord  any 
genuine  faith  to  your  account  of  the  phosphores- 
cence of  the  tropical  seas ;  when  people  are  in  love 
they  see  everything  as  by  a  Bengal  light." 

This  sententious  remark  of  course  induces  Rohritz 
to  put  the  laughing  inquiry,  "  Do  you  speak  from 
experience,  Baroness  Stella?" 


•  A   RAINY  EVENING.  99 

"  Certainly,"  she  replies,  with  a  convincing  ab- 
sence of  embarrassment.  "  I  have  been  through 
it  all  with  my  sister :  she  saw  her  artillery-officer 
by  a  Bengal  light,  or  she  never  would  have  left 
science  in  the  lurch  for  his  sake,  for,  heaven 
knows,  he  was  just  like  all  the  rest,  except  that 
in  addition — he  played  the  piano.  Just  fancy !  an 
artillery-officer  playing  the  piano ! — Wagner,  of 
course !  Two  dogs  and  a  cat  of  ours  went  mad  at 
the  sight.  But  Franzi  assured  me  that  her  artil- 
lery-officer's touch  reminded  her  of  Rubinstein. 
So  you  see  how  trustworthy  your  descriptions  are." 

Rohritz  laughs  good-humouredly,  then  says, 
"Even  if  I  admit  that  on  board  the  Europa  I 
still  had  a  little  touch  of  the  disease  you  men- 
tion, I  must  maintain  that  the  delirious  period  had 
passed." 

"  Hm  !  one  thing  more,"  says  Stella,  pursuing  still 
more  boldly  the  devious  path  upon  which  she  has 
entered.  "  I  must  know  this  precisely.  Were  you 
in  love  with  a  married  woman  ?  Un  homme  qui  se 
respecte  is  never  in  love  except  with  a  married 
woman, — at  least  in  all  the  novels." 

"  Stella!"  Stasy  calls,  horrified. 

Even  Rohritz,  who  has  hitherto  listened  very 
patiently  to  Stella's  nonsense,  seems  unpleasantly 
affected  by  this  speech  of  hers.  He  looks  pene- 
tratingly into  the  young  girl's  eyes,  and  becomes 
aware  that  he  is  gazing  into  depths  of  innocence. 


100  ERLACH  COURT. 

Before  he  has  time  to  say  anything,  Stasy  calls 
out,  in  a  shocked  tone, — 

"  Stella,  you  are  frivolous  to  a  degree " 

Stella  blushes  crimson  ;  her  eyes  fill  with  tears ; 
she  makes  awkward  little  motions  with  her  hands 
upon  the  keys,  and  plays  a  couple  of  bars  from 
Thalberg's  fitude  in  Cis-moll. 

"  Frivolous  ? — frivolous  ?  But,  Anastasia,  I  was 
only  jesting,"  she  murmurs,  and,  turning  to  Rohritz 
as  if  for  protection,  she  adds,  "It  needed  very 
little  logic  to  guess  that,  for  if  you  had  been  in 
love  with  a  young  girl  there  would  have  been  no 
need  for  you  t6  be  unhappy  and  to  go  sailing 
about  on  tropical  seas  to  distract  your  mind :  you 
could  simply  have  married  her."  . 

'•But  suppose  the  young  girl  would  not  have 
him  ?"  the  captain  asks,  merrily. 

Stella  looks  first  at  Rohritz,  then  at  her  uncle, 
and  murmurs,  "  That  never  occurred  to  me." 

A  burst  of  laughter  from  the  captain — laughter 
in  which  Katrine  joins  heartily  and  Stasy  ironi- 
cally— is  the  reply  to  this  confession. 

"  Acknowledge  the  compliment,  Rohritz ;  come, 
acknowledge  it,"  Leskjewitsch  exclaims  in  the 
midst  of  his  laughter. 

But  Rohritz  maintains  unmoved  his  serious, 
kindly  expression  of  countenance. 

"  It  is  not  given  to  even  the  greatest  minds  to  con- 
template all  possible  contingencies,"  he  says,  dryly. 


A  LOVE-AFFAIR.  101 

The  Baroness  Meineck,  absorbed  in  her  game,  has 
heard  little,  meanwhile,  of  what  has  been  going  on 
about  her ;  she  now  suddenly  remembers  that  it  is 
incumbent  upon  her  to  attend  to  her  daughter's 
training. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  been  uttering  some  stu- 
pidity again,  Stella,"  she  observes,  coldly;  "you 
are  incorrigible !" 

"  Poor  mamma,  she  really  is  to  be  pitied,"  Stella 
sighs,  her  sense  of  humour  asserting  itself  in  spite 
of  her ;  "  she  has  no  luck  with  her  children.  Her 
clever  daughter  commits  stupidities,  and  her  silly 
daughter  utters  them.  Which  is  the  worse  ?" 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

A   LOVE-AFFAIR. 

IT  rains  the  entire  ensuing  night,  and  far  into  the 
forenoon  of  the  next  day.  The  hollows  worn  in 
the  stone  pavement  of  the  terrace  are  filled  with 
water,  and  form  little  brown  ponds.  The  buff- 
coloured  castle  has  become  orange-coloured,  and 
looks  quite  worn  with  weeping.  The  lawns  reek 
with  moisture,  and  the  Malmaison  roses  are  pale 
and  draggled.  Drowned  butterflies  float  on  the 
surface  of  the  pools,  and  fantastic  wreaths  of  mist 


102  ERLACH  COURT. 

curl  about  the  foot  of  the  mountains  on  the  farther 
side  of  the  Save.  No  sun  is  to  be  seen  amid  the 
gray-brown  rack  of  clouds. 

At  last  the  rain  falls  more  slowly ;  the  chirp  of 
a  bird  makes  itself  heard  now  and  then ;  a  white 
watery  spot  in  the  gray  skies  shows  where  the 
sun  is  hiding ;  slowly  it  draws  aside  the  veil  from 
its  beaming  face,  and  between  the  torn  and  flying 
masses  of  cloud  the  heavens  laugh  out  once  more, 
blue  and  brilliant. 

Tempted  forth  by  the  delightful  change  in  the 
weather,  Katrine,  Stasy,  and  Stella  venture  out  to 
take  their  daily  bath  in  the  Neuring.  In  its  normal 
condition  the  Neuringis  a  clear,  sparkling  stream, 
flowing  freely  over  its  pebbly  bed  in  constant  angry 
attack  upon  diverse  fragments  of  rock  which  look 
in  magnificent  disdain  upon  its  impotent  assaults. 
A  bath  in  the  current  between  the  largest  of  these 
fragments  of  rock,  where  for  the  convenience  of 
the  bathers  a  stout  pole  has  been  fixed,  is  a  great 
favourite  among  the  delights  of  Erlach  Court. 
.  One  shore  of  the  stream  slopes,  flower-strewn 
and  verdant,  nearly  to  the  water's  edge,  and  here 
stands  a  roughly-constructed  bath-house,  from  which 
wooden  steps  lead  down  into  the  water. 

Stella  is  sitting,  in  a  very  faded  bathing-suit  oi 
black  serge  trimmed  with  white  braid,  on  the  lowest 
of  these  steps,  gazing  sadly  into  the  stream. 

"  I  certainly  did  behave  with  unpardonable  stu- 


A  LOVE-AFFAIR.  103 

pidity  yesterday,"  she  says,  twisting  her  golden  hair 
into  a  thick  knot  and  fastening  it  up  at  the  back 
of  her  head  with  a  rather  dilapidated  tortoise-shell 
comb. 

"  When  do  you  mean?"  asks  Stasy.  "At  lunch, 
or  in  the  evening,  or  early  this  morning  ?" 

"  Yesterday  evening,  in  the  drawing-room," 
Stella  replies,  somewhat  impatiently. 

"  That  talk  with  Rohritz  was  a  little  reprehensi- 
ble," Katrine  says,  with  a  laugh. 

"  In  your  place,  after  having  been  guilty  of  such 
a  breach  of  decorum,  I  could  not  make  up  my  mind 
to  look  him  in  the  face,"  Stasy  declares. 

She  slips  into  the  water  before  the  others,  and  is 
now  trying,  holding  by  the  pole  between  the  rocks, 
to  tread  the  waves.  The  water  hisses  and  foams,  as 
if  resenting  her  trampling  it  down. 

"  Was  it  really  so  bad,  Aunt  Katrine  ?"  Stella 
asks,  changing  colour. 

Katrine  leans  towards  her,  gives  her  a  kindly 
pat  on  the  shoulder,  lifts  her  chin  caressingly, 
and  says, — 

"  Well,  your  remarks  were  certainly  not  extraor- 
dinarily pertinent,  but  I  hardly  think  that  Rohritz 
took  them  ill.  'Tis  hard  to  take  things  ill  of  such 
a  pretty,  stupid,  golden  butterfly  as  you." 

With  which  Katrine  cautiously  sets  her  slender 
foot  among  the  yellow  irises  and  white  water-lilies 
on  the  edge  of  the  water. 


]04  ERLACH  COURT. 

"  It  was  terrible,  then, — it  must  have  been  terri- 
ble if  even  you  thought  it  so !"  says  Stella,  as  the 
tears  rush  to  her  eyes,  and  drop  into  the  stream  at 
her  feet. 

"  Don't  be  a  child,"  Katrine  consoles  her  :  "  the 
matter  was  of  no  great  consequence." 

"  Certainly  not,"  Stasy  adds,  rather  out  of  breath 
from  her  exertions.  "  What  he  thinks  can  make 
no  kind  of  difference  to  you,  and  he  assuredly  will 
not  report  elsewhere  your  very  strange  remarks. 
Probably  they  interest  him  so  little  that  he  will 
soon  forget  all  about  them." 

"Come  and  take  your  bath;  you  are  wonderfully 
averse  to  the  water  to-day,"  Katrine  calls  out  to  the 
girl,  who  still  sits  sadly  upon  the  wooden  step,  lost 
in  reflection.  "  Indeed  you  need  not  take  your 
stupidity  so  much  to  heart:  it  would  have  been 
nothing  at  all,  if  there  had  not  been  rather  an  odd 
story  connected  with  Rohritz's  sudden  voyage 
across  the  ocean." 

"Ah!"  exclaims  Stella,  paddling  through  the 
water  to  her  aunt,  who,  clinging  to  the  pole,  is  now 
enjoying  the  current.  "  Really,  something  ro- 
mantic ?"  she  asks,  curiously. 

"  There  was  nothing  romantic  in  the  affair  save 
his  way  of  taking  it,"  Katrine  says,  with  a  dry 
smile,  "and  therefore  the  remembrance  of  this 
piece  of  his  past  may  be  particularly  distasteful  to 
him." 


A  LOVE-AFFAIR.  105 

"Ah,  but  it  was  a  married  woman,  was  it  not? 
Do  tell  me  !"  Stella  entreats,  burning  with  curiosity. 

"No,  Solomon,"  Katrine  replies:  "it  was  a 
young,  unmarried  woman,  not  so  very  young  either, 
about  twenty-six  or  twenty-seven,  well  born,  a 
Baroness  von  Fohren,  a  Livonian  with  Russian 
blood  in  her  veins,  poor,  ambitious,  prudent,  and 
just  clever  enough  to  entertain  a  man  without 
frightening  him.  I  saw  her  once,  and  but  once,  at 
the  theatre;  she  was  very  beautiful,  and  I  took  an 
extraordinary  dislike  to  her.  I  am  always  ready  to 
applaud  Judic  in  opira-bouffe,  and  on  grand prix  day 
in  the  Bois  it  interests  me  exceedingly  to  observe 
the  dames  aux  camellias  through  my  opera-glass; 
but  nothing  in  this  world  so  disgusts  me  as  demi- 
monde graces  in  a  woman  who  ought  to  be  a  lady." 

"  I  think  you  are  a  little  severe  in  your  judg- 
ment of  Sonja.  She  was  not  irreproachable  in 
her  conduct,"  Stasy,  who  has  for  years  main- 
tained a  kind  of  friendship  with  the  person  under 
discussion,  here  interposes, — "not  irreproachable, 
but " 

In  all  that  touches  her  extremely  strict  ideas 
of  propriety  and  fitness,  Katrine  understands  no 
jesting. 

"  Her  conduct  was  not  only  '  not  irreproachable,' 
it  was  revolting !"  she  exclaims.  "  If  she  interests 
you,  Stella,  I  can  show  you  her  photograph;  at 
one  time  you  could  buy  it  everywhere.  She  was 


106  ERLACH  COURT. 

made  to  turn  a  young  fellow's  head.  With,  regard 
to  women  men  really  have  such  wretched  taste." 

"  Oho,  Katrine  !  That  sounds  as  if  you  said  it 
par  depit"  Stasy  says,  archly. 

"I  do  not  in  the  least  care  how  it  sounds," 
Katrine  rejoins. 

"Ah,  tell  me  about  Baroness  Fohren,"  Stella 
entreats. 

"  There  is  not  much  to  tell.  He  had  a  love-affair 
with  her " 

"  A  love-affair !"  The  words  fall  instantly  from 
Stella's  lips,  as  one  drops  a  burning  coal  from  the 
hand. 

"  Yes,"  Katrine  goes  on.  "  It  happened  in  Baden- 
Baden,  where  the  Fohren  was  staying  with  a  rela- 
tive of  hers.  Rohritz  paid  her  attention,  and  some- 
thing or  other  gave  occasion  for  a  scandalous  re- 
port. In  despair  at  having  compromised  the  lady 
of  his  affections,  Rohritz  instantly  proposed  to  her, 
and  informed  his  father  of  his  determination  to 
marry  her.  The  old  Baron,  a  man  of  unstained 
honour,  and  imbued  with  a  strong  feeling  of 
responsibility  in  maintaining  the  dignity  of  the 
Rohritz  family,  was  rather  shocked  by  this  hasty 
resolve,  and,  viewing  the  affair  from  a  far  less 
romantic  and  far  more  sensible  point  of  view  than 
that  taken  by  his  son,  made  inquiries  into  the 
reputation  of  the  lady  in  question,  and— I  cannot 
exactly  explain  it  to  you,  Stella,  but  the  result  of 


A  LOVE-AFFAIR.  107 

his  investigations  was  th*t  he  informed  Edgar  that 
he  need  be  troubled  by  no  conscientious  scruples  on 
behalf  of  this  adventuress,  and  that  he  positively 
refused  his  consent  to  the  marriage." 

"  And  then  ?"  asks  Stella. 

"  I  do  not  know  precisely  what  happened,"  says 
Katrine.  "  Jack  told  me  all  about  it  lately  with 
characteristic  indignation,  but  I  did  not  pay  much 
attention.  The  affair  dragged  on  for  a  while. 
Edgar,  who  was  then  most  romantically  inclined, 
would  not  resign  the  Fohren,  corresponded  with 
her, — how  I  should  have  liked  to  read  those 
letters ! — finally  fought  a  duel  with  one  of  her 
slanderers,  and  was  severely  wounded.  "When  he 
recovered  a't  last  after  several  dreary  months  of 
convalescence,  he  learned  that  the  Fohren  was 
married  to  a  wealthy  Russian." 

"  How  detestable !"  exclaims  Stella. 

"  Good  heavens !  she  had  a  practical  mind," 
Stasy  interposes.  "  I,  to  be  sure,  would  on  occa- 
sion have  married  a  tinker  for  love,  but  the  young 
women  of  the  present  day  are  not  ashamed  to  de- 
clare that  their  choice  in  marriage  is  influenced 
by  a  box  at  the  theatre,  brilliant  equipages,  and 
toilets  from  Worth.  Old  Rohritz  would  have  dis- 
inherited Edgar,  or  at  all  events  allowed  him  a  very 
inadequate  income,  while  Prince  Oblonsky " 

"Prince  Oblonsky!"  Stella  hastily  exclaims. 
"  Did  you  say  Oblonsky  ?" 


ERLACH  COURT. 

"Yes;  that  was  her  husband's  name, — Boris 
Oblonsky.  Now  she  is  a  widow,  and  still  perfectly 
beautiful." 

"  Perfectly  beautiful.  I  saw  her  in  Venice  at 
the  Princess  Giovanelli's  ball,"  says  Stella,  "  l  with 
brilliant  and  far-gazing  eyes.'  So  that  was  she  !" 
And  with  a  slight  anxiety  she  wonders  to  herself, 
"A  love-affair!  What  is  the  real  meaning  of  a 
love-affair?" 


CHAPTER    IX. 

FOUND.  % 

A  SLEEPY  afternoon  quiet  broods  over  Erlach 
Court.  Anastasia  is  sitting  in  the  shade  of  an 
arbour,  embroidering  a  strip  of  fine  canvas  with 
yellow  sunflowers  and  red  chrysanthemums.  At 
a  little  distance  the  Baroness  Meineck,  who  has 
volunteered  to  superintend  Freddy's  education 
during  her  stay  at  Erlach  Court,  is  giving  the  boy 
a  lesson  in  mathematics,  making  such  stupendous 
demands  upon  his  seven-year-old  capacity  that, 
ambitious  and  intelligent  though  the  young  student 
be,  he  is  beginning  to  grow  confused  with  his  in- 
effectual attempts  to  follow  the  lofty  flight  of  his 
teacher's  intellect.  Stella,  with  whom  mental  ex- 
citement is  always  combined  with  musical  thirst, 


FOUND.  109 

is  all  alone  in  the  drawing-room,  playing  from  the 
'  Kreisleriana.'  Her  fingers  glide  languidly  over 
the  keys.  "  A  love-affair !  Whq,t  is  the  real  mean- 
ing of  a  love-affair  ?"  The  question  presents  itself 
repeatedly  to  her  mind,  and  her  veins  thrill  with 
a  mixture  of  curiosity,  desire,  and  dread.  Lack- 
ing all  intimacy  with  girls  of  her  own  age  or 
older  than  herself,  who  might  have  enlightened 
her  on  such  points,  she  has  the  vaguest  ideas  as  to 
much  that  goes  on  in  the  world.  A  love-affair  is 
for  her  something  connected  with  rope  ladders  and 
peril  to  life,  like  the  interviews  of  Romeo  and 
Juliet,  something  that  she  cannot  fancy  to  herself 
without  moonlight  and  a  balcony.  Her  innocent 
curiosity  flutters  to  and  fro,  spellbound,  about  the 
Baden-Baden  episode  in  Rohritz's  youth,  as  a 
butterfly  flutters  above  a  dull  pool  the  pitiful  mud- 
diness  of  which  is  disguised  by  brilliant  sunshine, 
the  blue  reflection  of  the  skies,  and  a  net-work  of 
pale  water-lilies. 

She  could  not  tear  her  thoughts  from  Baden- 
Baden,  which  she  knew  partly  from  TourganiePs 
'  Smoke,'  partly  in  its  present  shorn  condition  from 
her  own  experience, — Baden-Baden,  which  when 
.the  Fohren  and  Rohritz  were  together  there  might 
have  been  described  as  a  bit  of  Paradise  rented  to 
the  devil. 

"  I  wonder  if  she  called  him  Edgar  when  they 
were  alone  ?"  the  girl  asked  herself. 

10 


ERLACH  COURT. 

Her  heart  beat  fast.  It  was  as  if  she  had  by 
chance  read  a  page  of  some  forbidden  book  negli- 
gently left  lying  open.  Not  for  the  world  would 
she  have  turned  the  leaf  to  read  on,  for,  in  common 
with  every  pure,  young  girl,  when  she  approached 
the  great  mystery  of  love  she  was  possessed  by  a 
sacred  timidity  almost  amounting  to  awe. 

"I  wonder  if  he  was  very  unhappy?"  she  asks 
herself.  "Yes,  he  must  have  been;"  Katrine  had 
told  her  that  he  grew  gray  with  suffering.  A  great 
wave  of  sympathy  and  pity  wells  up  in  her  inno- 
cent heart.  "  Yes,  she  was  very  beautiful !"  she 
says  to  herself. 

She  perfectly  remembers  her  at  the  Giovanelli 
ball,  leaning  rather  heavily  on  her  partner's  arm, 
her  eyes  half  closed,  her  head  inclined  towards  his 
shoulder,  and  again  in  a  solitary  little  anteroom 
before  a  marble  chimney-piece,  below  which  a  fire 
glowed  and  sparkled,  lifting  both  hands  to  her 
head,  an  attitude  that  brought  into  strong  relief  the 
magnificent  outline  of  her  shoulders  and  bust. 
While  thus  busied  with  arranging  her  hair,  she 
smiled  over  her  shoulder  at  a  young  man  who  was 
leaning  back  in  an  arm-chair  near,  his  legs  crossed, 
holding  his  crush-hat  in  both  hands,  regarding  her 
with  languid  looks  of  admiration. 

This  was  Stella's  friend,  black-eyed  Prince  Zino 
Capito.  All  Venice  was  then  talking  of  the  Prince's 
adoration  of  the  beautiful  Livonian. 


FOUND. 

"  "What  is  it  about  her  that  makes  every  man  fall 
in  love  with  her  ?"  Stella  asks  herself.  And  a  sud- 
den pang  of  something  like  envy  assails  her  inno- 
cent heart.  Ah,  she  would  like  just  one  taste  of 
the  wondrous  poison  of  which  all  the  poets  sing. 
"  "Will  any  one  ever  be  in  love  with  me  ?"  she  asks 
herself.  "  Ah,  it  must  be  delicious, — delicious  as 
music  and  the  fragrance  of  flowers  in  spring;  and 
I  should  so  like  to  be  happy  for  once  in  my  life, 

even  were  it  for  only  a  single  hour.  But " 

Her  eyes  fill  with  tears :  what  has  she  to  do  with 
happiness  ?  it  is  not  for  her ;  of  that  she  has  been 
convinced  from  the  moment  when  on  that  last  mel- 
ancholy journey  with  her  father  she  found  she  had 
lost  her  little  amulet.  Poor  papa  !  he  would  gladly 
have  bestowed  happiness  upon  her  from  heaven, 
and  instead  he  had  taken  her  happiness  down  with 
him  into  the  grave.  Poor,  dear  papa  ! 

The  breath  of  the  roses  outside  steals  in  through 
the  closed  blinds,  sweet  and  oppressive.  Among 
the  flowers  below  awakened  to  fresh  beauty,  the 
bees  hum  loudly,  plunging  into  the  honeysuckles, 
and  gently  as  if  with  reverence  touching  the  pale 
refined  beauty  of  the  Malmaison  roses,  while  above 

the  acacias  and  lindens  they  are  swarming. 
******* 

Rohritz  has  been  occupied  in  writing  his  usual 
quarterly  duty-letter  to  his  married  brother.  As 
with  all  men  of  his  stamp,  a  letter  is  for  him  a 


ERLACH  COURT. 

great  undertaking,  accomplished  wearily  from  a 
strict  sense  of  duty. 

Seated  at  the  writing-desk  of  carved  rosewood 
bestowed  upon  him  long  since  by  an  aunt  and  pro- 
vided with  many  secret  drawers  and  with  all  kinds 
of  silver-gilt  and  ivory  utensils  of  mysterious  use- 
lessness,  he  covers  four  pages  of  English  writing- 
paper  with  his  formal,  regular  handwriting,  and 
then  looks  for  his  seal  wherewith  to  seal  his  epistle. 
Rummaging  in  the  various  drawers  and  receptacles 
of  the  desk,  he  comes  across  a  small  bracelet, — a 
delicate  circlet  to  which  is  suspended  a  crystal 
locket  containing  a  four-leaved  clover. 

For  a  moment  he  cannot  recall  how  he  became 
possessed  of  the  trifle.  Could  it  have  been  the  gift 
of  some  sentimental  female  friend?  In  vain  he 
taxes  his  memory :  no,  it  certainly  is  no  memento 
of  the  kind.  He  swings  it  to  and  fro  upon  his 
finger,  letting  the  sunshine  play  upon  it,  and  then 
first  perceives  a  cipher  graven  on  the  crystal,  a 
Roman  S,  surmounting  a  star.  Involuntarily  he 
murmurs  below  his  breath,  "  Stella !"  and  suddenly 
remembers  where  he  found  the  bracelet, — on  the 
red  velvet  seat  of  a  first-class  coupe,  three  years 
before,  towards  the  end  of  April. 

He  had  advertised  it  in  the  Viennese  and  Gratz 
newspapers,  doing  his  best  to  restore  the  porte- 
bonheur  to  its  owner,  but  in  vain. 

"  In  fact "     In   an   instant  he  recalls  what 


FOUND.  H3 

Leskjewitsch  had  told  him  of  Stella's  sad  journey 
with  her  father.  He  smiles,  leaves  his  letter  un- 
sealed, goes  to  the  window,  looks  down,  into  the 
garden,  sees  Stasy  busy  with  her  chrysanthemums, 
hears,  proceeding  from  a  garden-tent  at  a  little 
distance,  decorated  with  red  tassels,  the  contralto 
tones  of  the  Baroness  Meineck  and  the  depressed 
and  weeping  replies  of  her  pupil. 

Through  the  languid  summer  air  glide  the  harsh, 
forced  modulations  of  the  '  Kreisleriana.' 

"  Ah  !"  He  wends  his  way  to  the  drawing-room. 
There,  in  the  romantic  half-light  that  prevails,  all 
the  blinds  and  shades  being  closed  to  shut  out  the 
hot  July  sun,  he  sees  a  light  figure  seated  at  the 
piano.  At  his  entrance  she  turns  her  golden  head. 

"Are  you  looking  for  any  one ?"  she  asks,  in  the 
midst  of  No.  6  of  the  '  Kreisleriana,'  rather  con- 
fused by  his  entrance,  and  trying  furtively  to  brush 
away  the  tears  that  still  show  upon  her  cheeks. 

"  Yes ;  I  was  looking  for  you,  Baroness  Stella." 

"  For  me  ?"  she  asks,  in  surprise. 

"  Yes ;  I  wanted  to  ask  you  something." 

"  Well  ?"  She  takes  her  hand  from  the  keys 
and  turns  round  towards  him,  without  rising. 

"  Three  years  ago  I  found  a  bracelet  in  a  rail- 
way-coupe. Coming  across  it  by  chance  to-day, 
I  perceive  that  it  is  marked  with  your  cipher. 
Does  it  belong " 

But  Stella  does  not  allow  him  to  finish;  deadly 
h  10* 


ERLACH  COURT. 

pale,  and  trembling  in  every  limb,  sbe  has  sprung 
up  and  taken  the  bracelet  from  his  hand. 

"  Oh,  you  cannot  tell  all  you  restore  to  me  with 
this  bracelet!"  she  exclaims,  and  in  her  inexpres- 
sible delight  she  holds  out  to  him  both  her  hands. 

Are  they  so  absorbed  in  each  other  as  not  to  ob- 
serve the  apparition  which  presents  itself  for  an 
instant  at  the  drawing-room  door,  only  to  glide 
away  immediately  ? 

Meanwhile,  in  the  garden  a  thrilling  drama  is 
being  enacted.  So  thoroughly  bewildered  at  last 
by  the  Baroness's  system  of  instruction  that  his 
brain  refuses  to  respond  to  even  the  small  demands 
which  her  growing  contempt  for  his  capacity  per- 
mits her  to  make  upon  it,  poor  Freddy  feels  so 
thoroughly  ashamed  of  his  inability  that  he  lifts 
up  his  voice  and  weeps  aloud.  When  his  mother 
hastens  to  him  to  learn  what  has  so  distressed  her 
son,  he  throws  his  arms  around  her  waist  and  cries 
out,  in  a  tone  of  heart-breaking  despair,  "  Mamma, 
mamma,  what  will  become  of  me?  I  am  so 
stupid, — so  very  stupid !" 

Katrine  finds  this  beyond  a  jest.  "  I  must  en- 
treat you  not  to  trouble  yourself  further  with  my 
boy's  education,  if  this  is  the  only  result  you 
achieve,  Lina,"  she  says,  provoked,  whereupon  the 
Baroness  replies,  angrily, — 

"  I  certainly  shall  not  insist  upon  continuing 
my  lessons,  especially  as  never  in  my  life  have  I 


FOUND. 

found  any  one  so  obtuse  of  comprehension  in  the 
simplest  matters  as  your  son." 

"  Ah,  you  insinuate  that  my  boy  is  a  blockhead. 
Let  me  assure  you,  however " 

In  what  mutual  amenities  the  conversation  of 
the  sisters-in-law  would  have  culminated  must  re- 
main a  subject  of  conjecture;  for  at  this  moment 
Stasy  comes  tripping  along,  saying,  with  an  af- 
fected smile, — 

"  How  wonderfully  one  can  be  mistaken  as  to 
character  in  others !  Yes,  yes,  still  waters — still 
waters.  Ha !  ha!" 

"  What  do  you  mean  with  your  still  waters  ?" 
Katrine  asks,  contemptuously. 

"  Hush !"  And  Stasy  archly  lays  her  finger  on 
her  lip  with  a  significant  glance  towards  the  boy, 
who  with  his  arms  still  about  his  mother's  waist 
is  drying  his  tears  upon  her  sleeve. 

"  Run  into  the  house,  Freddy,  and  bathe  your 
eyes,  and  then  we  will  take  a  walk,"  Katrine  says 
to  her  little  son.  "What  is  the  matter?"  she 
then  asks,  coldly,  turning  to  Stasy. 

"  Rohritz — aha ! — we  all  thought  him  an  extinct 
volcano.  I,  notoriously  reserved  as  I  am,  per- 
mitted myself  to  tease  him  slightly  now  and  then, 
thinking  him  entirely  harmless.  And  now,  now 
I  find  him  in  the  yellow  drawing-room,  tete-a-tete 
with  Stella,  both  her  hands  in  his,  gazing  into 
her  lifted  eyes,  deep  in  a  flirtation, — a  flirtation  cfc 


ERLACH  COURT. 

I'Americaine, — quite  beyond  what  is  permissible. 
Really  perilous !" 

"  If  you  thought  the  situation  perilous  for  Stella, 
I  really  do  not  understand  why  you  did  not  inter- 
rupt the  ttte-a-tete"  says  Katrine,  severely. 

"  It  was  no  affair  of  mine,"  Stasy  replies.  "  How 
was  I  to  know  that  so  sentimental  an  interview 
would  not  end  in  an  offer  of  marriage  ?  Improba- 
ble, to  be  sure,  for  Rohritz  is  too  cautious  for 
that, — even  although  he  allows  himself  on  a  sum- 
mer afternoon  to  be  so  far  carried  away  as  to  kiss 
the  hand  of  a  pretty  girl  in  a  iete.-b-ttte  with  her." 

Her  eyes  sparkling  with  anger,  the  Baroness 
hurries  into  the  castle  and  up-stairs  to  the  drawing- 
room. 

"  Stella,  what  are  you  about  here  ?  Have  you 
nothing  to  do  ?  Come  with  me !" 

In  terror  Stella  follows  her  mother  as  she  strides 
on  to  their  apartments.  There  the  Baroness  closes 
the  door  behind  her,  and,  seizing  her  daughter  by 
the  arm,  says, — 

"  Must  I  endure  the  disgrace  of  having  my  child 
conduct  herself  so  shamelessly  in  a  strange  house 
that  strangers  inform  me  that  she  is  flirting  d 
I'Amtricaine  with  young  men  ?" 

"I,  mother!  I "  exclaims  Stella,  her  eyes 

riveted  upon  her  mother's  angry  face.  "But  I 

assure  you Mother,  mother,  how  can  you  say 

such  dreadful  things  to  me  ?"  And  the  girl  bursts 


FREDDY'S  BIRTHDAY.  117 

out  sobbing.  "  It  is  Stasy  that  has  accused  me. 
How  can  you  attach  any  importance  to  what  she 
says  ?" 

"  No  matter  what  Stasy  says.     Your  conduct  is 

*/  •/ 

extraordinary." 

"  But,  mother,  mother " 

"  What  have  you  to  do  with  tete-a-tetes  with 
young  men?"  the  Baroness  asks,  with  dramatic 
effect, — the  same  Baroness  who  sent  her  child  to 
a  singing-teacher  three  times  a  week  without  an 
escort.  "  It  is  improper, — very  improper.  What 
must  Rohritz  think  of  you?  You  will  come  to 
be  like  your  aunt  Eugeuie  !" 


CHAPTER   X. 

FREDDY'S  BIRTHDAY. 

IT  is  not  to  be  denied  that  Stella's  behaviour  is 
always  unconventional  and  sometimes  very  thought- 
less. On  the  whole,  however,  her  little  indiscre- 
tions do  not  detract  from  her  great  natural  charm. 
The  Baroness,  not  having  taken  any  pains  with  her 
education,  never  of  herself  notices  these  little  in- 
discretions. But  if  a  stranger  alludes  to  them  her 
maternal  ambition  is  profoundly  outraged,  and  the 
inevitable  result  is  the  bursting  of  a  thunder-storm 


ERLACH  COURT. 

above  Stella's  innocent  head,  a  storm  always  sure 
to  culminate  in  the  fearful  words,  "  You  will  come 
to  be  like  your  aunt  Eugenie !" 

The  real  meaning  of  these  words  Stella  never 
understands,  since  no  one  has  ever  told  her  what 
has  become  of  her  aunt  Eugenie,  but  she  knows 
that  their  significance  must  be  terrible.  Cowed 
and  unhappy,  she  glides  about  after  every  such  ex- 
plosion as  if  guilty  of  some  crime,  until  her 
bright  animal  spirits  gain  the  upper  hand  and  she 
begins  afresh  to  talk  and  to  be  thoughtless. 

Her  mother's  last  indignant  remonstrance  puts 
an  end  to  all  the  kindly  freedom  of  her  intercourse 
with  Eohritz.  She  avoids  him  so  evidently,  is  so 
stiff  and  monosyllabic  with  him,  that  he  at  last 
questions  the  captain  as  to  the  cause  of  this  change, 
and  receives  from  his  friend  a  distinct  explanation. 

"  It  is  indeed  no  great  bliss  to  be  my  sister's 
daughter,"  the  captain  concludes.  "  Beneath  her 
mother's  intermittent  care  Stella  seems  to  me  like 
a  noble,  sensitive  horse  beneath  a  very  bad  rider. 
I  hate  to  look  on  at  such  cruelty  to  animals,  and 
I  should  be  heartily  glad  to  find  a  good  husband 
for  her  before  her  mother  entirely  ruins  her.  He 
will  have  to  be  a  good,  noble-hearted  fellow,  clever 
and  gentle  at  once,  with  a  firm,  light  hand,  and 
plenty  of  money,  for  the  child  has  nothing, — more's 
the  pity." 


FREDDY'S  BIRTHDAY.  119 

The  time  never  flies  faster  than  in  summer  :  with. 
no  hurry,  but  with  graceful  celerity,  the  lovely  July 
days  glide  past  in  their  rich  robes  of  dark  green 
and  sky-blue.  The  genii  of  summer  play  about 
us,  fling  roses  at  our  feet,  and  strew  the  grass  with 
diamonds.  They  offer  us  happiness,  show  it  to  us, 
whisper  insinuatingly,  "  Take  it, — ah,  take  it." 
And  some  of  us  would  gladly  obey,  but  their  hands 
are  bound,  and  others,  remember  how  they  once,  on 
just  such  enchanting  summer  days,  stretched  out 
their  hands  in  eager  longing  for  the  roses,  and  at 
their  touch  the  roses  vanished,  leaving  only  the 
thorns  in  their  grasp,  and  they  turn  away  with  a 
mistrustful  sigh.  Others,  again,  examine  the  offered 
joy  hesitatingly,  critically,  refuse  to  decide,  linger 
and  wait,  and  before  they  are  aware  the  beneficent 
genii  have  vanished ;  autumnal  blasts  have  driven 
them  away  with  the  roses  and  the  foliage.  The 
sun  shines  no  longer,  the  skies  are  gray,  and  a  cold 
wind  sings  a  shrill  song  of  scorn  in  their  ears. 

*  Passing  ! — passing !'  One  week,  two  weeks 
have  passed  since  the  Meinecks  arrived  at  Erlach 
Court.  Each  day  Rohritz  has  found  Stella  more 
charming,  each  day  he  has  paid  her  more  atten- 
tion, but  his  real  intimacy  with  her  has  increased 
not  one  whit. 

To-day  is  Freddy's  birthday.  Stella  has  presented 
him  with  a  gorgeous  paint-box ;  he  has  received  all 
sorts  of  gifts  and  toys  from  his  parents  and  rela- 


120  ERLACH  COURT. 

tives,  and  he  has,  of  course,  been  more  than  usually 
petted  and  caressed  by  his  father  and  mother.  His 
delight  is  extreme  when  he  learns  that  a  picnic  has 
been  arranged  for  the  day  in  his  honour. 

None  of  the  older  inmates  of  the  castle  take  any 
special  pleasure  in  picnics ;  least  of  all  has  Katrine 
any  liking  for  these  complicated  undertakings. 
But  Freddy  adores  them;  and  what  would  Katrine 
not  do  to  give  her  darling  a  delight  ? 

It  is  Sunday.  A  gentle  wind  murmurs  melodi- 
ously through  the  dewy  grass,  and  sighs  among  the 
thick  foliage  of  the  lindens  like  a  dreamy  echo  of 
the  sweet  monotonous  tolling  of  bells  that  comes 
from  the  gleaming  white  churches  and  chapels  on 
the  mountain-slopes  on  the  other  side  of  the  Save. 
From  the  open  windows  of  the  dining-room  can  be 
seen  across  the  low  wall  of  the  park  the  brown 
peasant- worn  en,  with  pious,  expressionless  faces, 
and  huge  square  white  headkerchiefs  knotted  at 
the  back  of  the  neck,  marching  along  the  road  to 
church.  Above,  in  the  dark-blue  sky  myriads  of 
fleecy  clouds  are  flying,  and  swarms  of  airy  blue 
and  yellow  butterflies  are  fluttering  about  the  Mal- 
maison  roses  and  over  the  beds  of  heliotrope  and 
mignonette  in  front  of  the  castle. 

There  has  been  rain  during  the  previous  night, 
but  not  much,  and  the  whole  earth  seems  decked  in 
fresh  and  festal  array.  The  sun  shines  bright  and 
golden,  but  the  barometer  is  falling, — a  depressing 


FREDDY'S  BIRTHDAY.  121 

fact  which  Baron  Eohritz  announces  to  all  present 
at  the  birthday-breakfast. 

Freddy's  face  grows  long,  and  Katrine  exclaims, 
hastily,  "  Your  barometer  is  intolerable !"  She 
has  no  idea  of  sacrificing  her  child's  enjoyment  to 
the  whims  of  an  impertinent  barometer. 

"  Yes,  Edgar,  your  barometer  is  a  great  bore," 
the  captain  remarks. 

Whoever  presumes  to  express  an  unpleasant  or 
even  inconvenient  truth  is  sure  to  be  regarded  as 
a  great  bore. 

Meanwhile,  Katrine  has  stepped  out  upon  the 
terrace  and  convinced  herself  that  the  weather  is 
superb.  Annihilating  by  a  glance  Rohritz  and  his 
warning,  she  orders  the  servant  who  has  just 
brought  in  a  plate  of  hot  almond-cakes  to  have 
the  horses  harnessed  immediately. 

Rohritz  placidly  twirls  his  moustache,  and  re- 
marks, as  he  rises  from  table,  that  he  will  strap 
up  his  mackintosh.  A  few  minutes  afterwards  the 
carriages,  a  light-built  drag  and  a  solid  landau,  are 
announced.  To  the  drag  are  harnessed  a  couple 
of  fiery  youug  nags,  while  in  default  of  the  carriage- 
horses,  which  have  been  ailing  for  a  few  days,  the 
landau  is  drawn  by  a  pair  of  hacks,  by  no  means 
spirited  or  prepossessing  in  appearance. 

The  guests  stand  laughing  and  talking  on  the 
sweep  before  the  castle.     Katrine's  voice  is  heard 
giving  orders ;  Stella  is  busy  helping  the  captain 
v  11 


122  ERLACH  COURT. 

to  pack  away  in  the  carriages  the  plentiful  store 
of  provisions. 

Swathed  in  airy  clouds  of  muslin,  sweetly  suf- 
fering, but  resisting  the  united  entreaties  of  all  the 
rest  that  she  will  stay  at  home,  Anastasia  leans 
against  the  vine-wreathed  balustrade  of  the  terrace, 
a  vinaigrette  held  to  her  nose. 

Before  Katrine  has  quite  finished  issuing  her 
commands,  the  captain  with  Stella  mounts  upon 
the  front  seat  of  the  drag,  the  general  taking  his 
place  beside  Freddy  on  the  back  seat.  "Want  of 
room  obliges  the  captain  to  act  as  driver  himself. 
He  gathers  up  the  reins,  and  his  steeds  start  off 
gaily.  The  rest  of  the  company  settle  themselves 
as  best  they  can  in  the  landau,  the  Baroness  and 
Fraulein  von  Gurlichingen  on  the  back  seat,  Rohritz 
with  Katrine  opposite  them.  A  few  anxious  mo- 
ments ensue,  in  which  every  one  asks  the  rest  if 
they  have  not  forgotten  something.  The  servants 
bring  the  due  quantity  of  rugs,  plaids,  umbrellas,  and 
opera-glasses,  and  the  coachman  is  bidden  to  drive 
off.  The  hacks  sadly  stretch  out  their  long,  skinny 
legs,  and  trot  laboriously  after  the  brisk  drag. 

In  Reierstein,  at  the  foot  of  a  romantic  ruin, — 
no  picnic  is  conceivable  without  a  ruin, — a  dejeuner 
&  la  fourchette  is  to  be  spread  in  the  open  air. 
Dinner,  which  has  been  postponed  from  six  to 
seven,  is  to  be  taken  in  Erlachhof  on  the  return 
of  the  party. 


FREDDY'S  BIRTHDAY.  123 

Katrine  is  right :  the  day  is  superb, — a  fact  of 
which  she  frequently  reminds  the  possessor  of  the 
odious  barometer. 

"  Wait  until  evening  before  declaring  the  day 
fine,"  Rohritz  rejoins,  sententiously.  "  The  sun's 
rays  sting  like  harvest-flies :  that  is  a  bad  sign." 

"  Oh,  you  are  always  foreboding  evil,"  Katrine 
says,  with  irritation. 

Rohritz  bows,  and  silence  ensues.  Katrine  looks 
preoccupied,  wondering  whether  the  mayonnaise 
has  not  been  forgotten  at  the  last  moment.  Stasy 
flourishes  her  vinaigrette  languishingly,  and  the 
Baroness,  who  has  been  hitherto  absorbed  in  her 
own  reflections,  suddenly  arouses  sufficiently  to 
utter  in  her  deepest  tones  an  astounding  observa- 
tion upon  the  imperfections  of  creation  and  the 
superfluity  of  human  existence,  whereupon  Rohritz 
agrees  with  her,  seconding  her  views  with  great 
ability  in  a  Schopenhauer  duet  in  which  she  main- 
tains the  principal  part.  She  asserts  that  mar- 
riage, since  it  is  a  means  for  the  continuance  of 
the  human  species,  should  be  avoided  by  all  re- 
spectable people,  while  Rohritz  suggests  the  in- 
vention of  a  tremendous  dynamite  machine  which 
shall  shatter  the  entire  globe,  as  a  fitting  problem 
for  the  wits  of  future  engineers. 

Meanwhile,  the  sunbeams  gleam  warm  and 
golden  upon  the  luxuriant  July  foliage,  and  tremble 
upon  the  clear  ripples  of  the  trout-stream  plashing 


124  ERLACH  COURT. 

merrily  along  by  the  roadside.  In  the  white  cups 
of  the  wild  vines  that  drape  with  tender  grace  the 
willows  and  elders  on  the  banks  of  the  little  stream, 
prismatic  drops  of  dew  are  shining.  The  tall 
grasses  wave  dreamily,  and  at  their  feet  peep  out 
pink,  yellow,  and  blue  wild  flowers,  while  the  air  is 
filled  with  the  melody  of  birds. 

Our  two  pessimists,  however,  take  no  note  what- 
ever of  these  trifles. 

The  road  grows  stony  and  steep;  the  hacks  drag 
along  more  and  more  wearily  and  at  last  come  to  a 
stand-still.  Anastasia  becomes  greener  and  greener 
of  hue,  and  sinks  back  half  fainting.  "  Ah,  I  feel 
as  if  I  should  die !" 

In  hopes  of  lightening  the  carriage  and  of  avoid- 
ing the  sight  of  Fraulein  von  Gurlichingen's  distress, 
Rohritz  proposes  to  alight  and  pursue  on  foot  the 
shorter  path  to  Reiersteiu,  with  which  he  is  familiar. 


CHAPTER   XL 

CRABBING. 


MEANWHILE,  the  captain's  spirited  steeds  have  long 
since  reached  the  appointed  spot.  Horses  and  car- 
riage have  been  disposed  of  at  the  inn  of  a  neigh- 
bouring village.  It  is  an  excellent  hostelry,  and 
would  have  been  a  very  pleasant  place  in  which  to 


CRABBING.  125 

take  lunch,  but,  since  the  delight  of  a  picnic  culmi- 
nates, as  is  well  known,  in  preparing  hot,  unappe- 
tizing viands  at  a  smoky  fire  in  the  open  air  and 
in  partaking  of  excellent  cold  dishes  in  the  most 
uncomfortable  position  possible,  the  party  imme- 
diately leave  the  village,  and  Stella,  Freddy,  and 
the  two  gentlemen,  with  the  help  of  a  peasant-lad 
hired  for  the  purpose,  drag  out  the  provisions  to 
the  ruin,  where  the  table  is  to  be  spread,  in  the 
shade  of  a  romantic  old  oak. 

Directly  across  the  meadow  flows  the  stream, 
now  widened  to  a  considerable  breadth,  which  had 
rippled  at  intervals  by  the  roadside. 

While  Leskjewitsch  and  the  general,  both  re- 
signed martyrs  to  picnic  pleasure,  set  about  col- 
lecting dry  sticks  for  the  fire,  Freddy,  who  has 
instantly  divined  crabs  in  the  brook,  having  first 
obtained  his  father's  permission,  pulls  off  his 
shoes  and  stockings  and  wades  about  among  the 
stones  and  reeds  in  the  water. 

"  You  look,  little  one,  as  if  you  wanted  to  go 
crabbing  too,"  says  the  captain  to  Stella,  noting 
the  longing  looks  which  the  girl  is  casting  after 
the  boy. 

"  Indeed  I  should  like  to,"  she  replies,  nodding 
gravely ;  "  but  would  it  be  proper,  uncle  ?" 

"  Whom  need  you  regard  ? — me,  or  that  old 
fellow,"  indicating  over  his  shoulder  the  general, 
"who  is  half  blind?" 

11* 


126  ERLACH  COURT. 

Stella  laughs  merrily. 

"I  certainly  should  not  mind  him;  but" — she 
colours  a  little — "  suppose  the  rest  were  to  come." 

"Ah!  you're  thinking  of  Rohritz,"  says  the 
captain.  "  Make  your  mind  easy :  if  I  know  those 
steeds,  it  will  take  them  one  hour  longer  to  drag 
the  carriage  up  here,  and  by  the  time  they  arrive 
you  can  have  caught  thirty-six  Laybrook  crabs. 
As  soon  as  I  hear  the  carriage  coming  I  will  warn 
you  by  whistling  our  national  hymn.  So  away 
with  you  to  the  water,  only  take  care  not  to  cut 
your  feet." 

A  minute  or  'two  later,  Stella,  without  gloves, 
the  sleeves  of  her  gray  linen  blouse  rolled  up  above 
her  elbows  over  her  shapely  white  arms,  and 
gathering  up  her  skirts  with  her  left  hand,  while 
with  the  right  she  feels  for  her  prey,  is  wading  in 
the  sun-warmed  water  beside  Freddy,  moving  with 
all  the  attractive  awkwardness  of  a  pretty  young 
girl  whose  feet  are  cautiously  seeking  a  resting- 
place  among  the  sharp  stones,  and  who,  although 
extremely  eager  to  capture  a  great  many  crabs,  has 
a  decided  aversion  to  any  spot  that  looks  green  and 
slimy. 

The  treacherous  luck  of  all  novices  at  any  game  U 
is  well  known.     Stella's  success  in  her  first  essay 
at  crabbing  is  marvellous.     She  goes  on  throwing 
more  and  more  of  the  crawling,  sprawling  mon- 
sters into  the  basket  which  Freddy  holds   ready. 


CRABBING.  127 

Her  hat  prevented  her  from  seeing  clearly,  so  she 
has  tossed  it  on  the  bank,  and  her  hair,  instead  of 
being  neatly  knotted  up,  hangs  in  a  mass  of  tan- 
gled gold  at  the  back  of  her  neck,  nearly  upon 
her  shoulders,  the  sunbeams  bringing  out  all  sorts 
of  glittering  reflections  in  its  coils.  She  is  just 
waving  a  giant  crustacean  triumphantly  on  high, 
with,  "Look,  Freddy,  did  you  ever  see  such  a 
big  one !"  when — the  blood  rushes  to  her  cheeks, 
her  brown  eyes  take  on  a  tragic  expression  of  dis- 
may, arid,  utterly  confused,  she  drops  the  crab  and 
her  skirts. 

"Am  I  intruding?"  asks  the  new  arrival,  Roh- 
ritz,  smiling  as  he  notices  her  confusion. 

In  her  hurry  to  get  out  of  the  brook,  she  forgets 
to  look  where  she  is  stepping,  and  suddenly  an 
expression  of  pain  appears  in  her  face,  and  the 
water  about  her  feet  takes  on  a  crimson  tinge. 

"You  have  cut  your  foot,"  Rohritz  calls,  seri- 
ously distressed,  helping  her  to  reach  the  shore, 
where  she  sits  down  on  the  stump  of  a  tree.  The 
captain  and  the  general  are  both  out  of  sight,  and 
the  blood  runs  faster  and  faster  from  a  considerable 
cut  in  the  girl's  foot.  "  We  must  put  a  stop  to  that," 
says  Rohritz,  with  anxiety  that  is  almost  paternal, 
as  he  dips  his  handkerchief  in  the  brook.  But 
with  a  deep  blush  Stella  hides  her  foot  beneath  the 
hem  of  her  dress,  now,  alas  !  soiled  and  muddy. 
"  Be  reasonable,"  he  insists,  adopting  a  sterner 


128  ERLACH  COURT. 

tone :  "  there  should  be  no  trifling  with  such 
things.  Remember  my  gray  hair :  I  might  be 
your  father."  And  he  kneels  down,  takes  her 
foot  in  his  hands,  and  bandages  the  wound  care- 
fully and  skilfully.  In  spite  of  his  boasted  gray 
hair,  however,  it  must  be  confessed  that  he  experi- 
ences odd  sensations  during  this  operation,  the  foot 
is  so  pretty,  slender,  but  not  bony,  soft  as  a  rose- 
leaf,  and  so  small  withal  that  it  almost  fits  into  the 
hollow  of  his  hand. 

Still  more  beautiful  than  her  foot  is  her  fair 
dishevelled  head,  so  turned  that  he  sees  only  a 
vague  profile,  just  enough  to  show  him  how  the 
blood  has  mounted  to  her  temples,  colouring  cheek 
and  neck  crimson. 

"  Thanks  !"  she  says,  in  a  somewhat  defiant  tone, 
drawing  the  foot  up  beneath  her  dress  after  he  has 
finished  bandaging  it.  Then,  looking  at  him  with 
a  lofty,  rather  mistrustful  air,  she  asks,  "  How  old 
are  you,  really?" 

"  Thirty-seven,"  he  replies,  so  accustomed  to  her 
strange  questions  that  they  no  longer  surprise  him. 

"  How  could  you  say  that  you  might  be  my 
father  ?  You  are  at  least  five  years  too  young !" 
she  exclaims,  angrily.  "  And  why  did  you  appear 
so  suddenly  ?" 

"  I  repent  my  intrusion  with  all  my  heart," 
Rohritz  assures  her.  "  The  horses  seemed  so  tired 
that  I  thought  three  people  a  sufficient  burden 


DISASTER.  129 

for  them,  and  so  I  alighted  and  came  by  the  path 
across  the  fields." 

At  this  moment  shrill  and  clear  across  the 
meadow  from  the  forest  bordering  it  come  the 
notes  of  '  God  save  our  Emperor !'  and  immedi- 
ately afterwards  is  heard  the  slow  rumble  of  the 
approaching  carriage. 

"  There,  you  see  !"  says  Stella,  still  out  of  humour. 
"  My  uncle  promised  me  to  whistle  that  as  soon  as 
the  carriage  could  be  heard ;  but  no  one  expected 
you  on  foot,  and  you  came  just  twenty  minutes 
too  soon !" 


CHAPTER    XII. 

DISASTER. 

ALL  that  the  Baroness  says  when  she  hears  of 
Stella's  mishap  is,  "  I  cannot  lose  sight  of  you  for 
an  instant  that  you  are  not  in  some  mischief!" 

Stella  only  sighs,  "  Poor  mamma  !"  while  Stasy, 
still  livid  as  to  complexion,  finds  herself  strong 
enough  to  glance  with  great  significance  first  at 
Stella  and  then  at  Rohritz.  When  she  hears  that 
it  is  Rohritz  that  bandaged  Stella's  foot  she  vi- 
brates between  fainting  and  a  fit  of  laughter.  She 
calls  Rohritz  nothing  but  '  my  dear  surgeon,'  ac- 


130  ERLACH  COURT. 

company  ing  the  exquisite  jest  with  a  sly  glance 
from  time  to  time. 

His  enjoyment  of  this  brilliant  wit  may  be  im- 
agined. 

The  general  grins ;  the  Baroness  looks  angry  ; 
the  captain  and  Katrine  are  the  only  ones  who 
observe  nothing  of  Rohritz's  annoyance  or  Anas- 
tasia's  jest;  they  are  entirely  absorbed  in  reproach- 
ing each  other  for  the  absence  of  the  corkscrew, 
which  has  been  forgotten. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  the  double  mischance  thus  at- 
tending'the  beginning  of  the  dejeuner  sur  I'kerbe, 
all  turns  out  pleasantly  enough.  The  general  re- 
members that  his  pocket-knife  is  provided  with  a 
corkscrew;  the  married  pair  recover  their  serenity; 
the  crabs,  in  spite  of  many  obstacles,  are  half 
cooked  at  the  fire,  and — for  Freddy's  sake — pro- 
nounced excellent ;  the  cold  capon  and  the  pate  de 
foie  gras  leave  nothing  to  be  desired ;  the  mayon- 
naise has  not  been  forgotten,  and  the  champagne 
is  capital. 

Hilarity  is  so  fully  restored  that  when  the  car- 
riages, ordered  at  five  o'clock,  make  their  appear- 
ance, the  company  is  singing  in  unison  '  Prince 
Eugene,  that  noble  soldier,'  to  an  exhilarating 
accompaniment  played  by  the  general  with  the 
back  of  a  knife  on  a  plate. 

Baron  Rohritz,  who  is  not  familiar  with  *  Prince 
Eugene,'  and  who  consequently  listens  in  silence 


DISASTER. 

to  that  inspiring  song,  glances  critically  at  a  small 
point  of  purple  cloud  creeping  up  from  behind 
the  mountains. 

"  My  barometer "  he  begins ;  but  Katrine 

interrupts  him  irritably  :  "  Ah,  do  spare  us  with 
your  barometer !" 

A  foreign  element  suddenly  mingles  with  the 
merry  talk.  A  loud  blast  of  wind  howls  through 
the  mighty  branches  of  the  old  oak,  tearing  away 
a  handful  of  leaves  to  toss  them  as  in  scorn  in  the 
dismayed  faces  of  the  party;  a  tall  champagne- 
bottle  falls  over,  and  breaks  two  glasses. 

"It  is  late;  we  have  far  to  go,  and  the  hacks 
are  scarcely  trustworthy,"  the  captain  remarks. 
"  I  think  we  had  better  begin  to  pack  up." 

Preparations  to  return  are  made  hurriedly.  The 
general  begs  for  a  place  in  the  landau,  as  his  back- 
bone is  sorely  in  need  of  some  support,  and  Freddy 
also,  who  is  apt  to  catch  cold,  is  taken  into  the 
carriage  from  the  open  conveyance. 

N"o  one  expresses  any  anxiety  with  regard  to 
Stella;  she  slips  into  her  brown  water-proof  and 
is  helped  up  upon  the  box  of  the  drag,  where  the 
captain  takes  his  place  beside  her,  while  Rohritz 
gets  into  the  seat  behind  them.  They  set  off. 
Once  more  the  sun  breaks  forth  from  among  the 
rapidly-darkening  masses  of  clouds,  but  the  air  is 
heavy  and  in  the  distance  there  is  a  faint  mutter 
of  thunder. 


132  ERLACH  COURT. 

"Wonderful  to  relate,  the  hired  steeds  follow 
the  sorrels  with  the  most  praiseworthy  rapidity, 
due  perhaps  to  the  fact  that  the  coachman  makes 
the  whip  whistle  uninterruptedly  about  their  long 
ears.  Katrine,  who  is  sitting  with  her  back  to  the 
horses,  sees  nothing  of  this,  but  rejoices  to  find 
the  pace  of  the  hacks  so  much  improved.  Sud- 
denly Stasy  in  a  panic  exclaims,  "  Katrine  !" 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?" 

"  The  driver— oh,  look " 

Frau  von  Leskjewitsch  turns,  and  sees  the  fat 
driver  from  the  village  swaying  to  and  fro  on  his 
seat  like  a  pendulum.  The  carriage  bumps  against 
a  stone,  the  ladies  scream,  Freddy,  who  had  fallen 
asleep  between  the  Baroness  and  Anastasia,  wakens 
and  asks  in  a  piteous  voice  what  is  the  matter ;  the 
general  springs  up,  tries  to  take  the  reins  from  the 
driver,  and  roars  as  loud  as  his  old  lungs  will  per- 
mit, "  Leskjewitsch !" 

The  captain  does  not  hear. 

"Papa!"  "Jack!"  "Captain!"  echo  loud  and 
shrill,  until  the  captain,  told  by  Rohritz  to  turn 
and  look,  gives  the  reins  to  his  old  comrade,  jumps 
down  from  the  drag,  and  runs  to  the  assistance 
of  his  family.  An  angry  scene  ensues  between 
him  and  the  driver,  who  tries  to  withhold  from 
him  the  reins, — is  first  violent,  then  maudlin,  stam- 
mering in  his  peasant-patois  asseverations  of  his 
entire  sobriety,  until  the  captain  actually  drags 


DISASTER.  133 

him  down  from  the  box  and  with  a  volley  of  abuse 
flings  him  into  a  ditchv  Katrine  is  attacked  by  a 
cramp  in  the  jaw  from  excitement.  The  Baroness 
ponders  upon  the  etymological  derivation  of  a 
word  in  the  patois  of  the  country  which  she  has 
fished  out  of  the  captain's  torrent  of  invective, 
and  repeats  it  to  herself  in  an  undertone.  The 
general  folds  his  hands  over  his  stomach  with 
resignation,  and  sighs,  "Dinner  is  ordered  for 
seven  o'clock."  Freddy's  blue  eyes  sparkle  merrily 
in  the  general  confusion,  and  Stasy,  since  there  is 
positively  no  audience  for  her  affectation,  conducts 
herself  in  a  perfectly  sensible  manner.  In  the 
midst  of  the  excitement,  one  of  the  hacks  deliber- 
ately lies  down,  and  thus  diverts  the  captain's  at- 
tention from  the  driver. 

"  By  Jove,  our  case  is  bad, — worse  than  might 
be  supposed.  These  screws  can  scarcely  stir,"  he 
exclaims :  "  that  drunken  scoundrel  has  beaten 
them  half  to  death.  How  we  are  to  get  home  God 
knows  :  these  brutes  cannot  possibly  drag  this  four- 
seated  Noah's  ark.  We  had  better  change  horses. 
Ho!  Rohritz?" 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?" 

"  Unharness  those  horses !" 

In  a  short  time  the  exchange  is  effected.  The 
sorrels  in  their  gay  trappings  are  harnessed  to  the 
heavy  landau,  the  long-legged  hacks  to  the  drag. 

It  is  beginning  to  rain,  and  to  grow  dark. 

12 


134  ERLACH  COURT. 

Freddy  is  nearly  smothered  in  plaids  by  his 
anxious  mamma.  The  captain  mounts  on  the  box 
of  the  four-seated  vehicle,  and  calls  to  Rohritz, — 

"  Drive  to  "Wolfsegg,  the  village  across  the  ferry. 
"We  will  await  you  with  fresh  horses,  at  the  inn 
there.  Adieu." 

And  the  captain  gives  his  steeds  the  rein,  and 
trots  gaily  past  the  drag. 

"  Tims !  Stella  is  left  tete-a-tite  with  Rohritz," 
Stasy  whispers. 

"  And  what  of  that  ?"  Katrine  says,  rather  crossly. 
"  He  will  not  kijl  her." 

"  No,  no ;  but  people  might  talk." 

"  Pshaw !  because  of  an  hour's  drive  !" 

""Wait  and  see  how  punctual  they  are,"  Stasy 
giggles  maliciously. 

"  Anastasia,  you  are  outrageous !"  Katrine  de- 
clares. 

"  Wait  and  see,"  Anastasia  repeats ;  "  wait  and 
see." 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

IDYLLIC. 


"ARE  you  well  protected,  Fraulein  Stella?" 
Rohritz  asks  his  young  companion,  after  a  long 
silence. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  says    Stella,  contentedly   wrapping 


IDYLLIC.  135 

herself  in  her  shabby,  thin,  twenty-franc  water- 
proof and  pulling  the  hood  over  her  fair  head,  "  I 
am  quite  warm.  It  was  a  good  thing  that  you  gave 
us  warning,  or  I  should  certainly  have  left  my 
water-proof  at  home." 

"  You  see  an  '  old  bore,'  as  Les  called  my  barom- 
eter, can  be  of  use  under  certain  circumstances." 

"Indeed  it  can,"  Stella  nods  assent;  "but  it 
would  have  been  a  pity  to  give  up  the  picnic  at  the 
bidding  of  your  weather-prophet,  for,  on  the  whole, 
it  was  a  great  success." 

"  Are  you  serious  ?"  Rohritz  asks,  surprised. 

"  Why  should  you  doubt  it?" 

"  Why,  you  have  had  less  cause  than  any  of  us 
to  enjoy  the  day.  You  have  cut  your  foot,  have 
spoiled  a  very  pretty  gown,  and  are  in  danger,  if  it 
goes  on  pouring  thus,  of  being  wet  to  the  skin  in 
spite  of  your  water-proof." 

"  That  is  of  no  consequence,"  she  declares  from 
out  the  brown  hood,  her  fair  dripping  face  laugh- 
ing up  at  him  through  the  rain  and  the  gathering 
darkness.  "  Where  is  the  harm  in  getting  a  little 
wet  ?  It  is  quite  delightful." 

He  is  silent.  She  is  to  be  envied  for  her  gay, 
happy  temperament,  and  she  looks  wonderfully 
pretty  in  spite  of  her  grotesque  wrap. 

Not  the  faintest  breath  of  wind  diverts  from  the 
perpendicular  the  downfall  of  rain.  The  road  leads 
between  two  steep  wooded  heights,  whence  are 


136  ERLACH  COURT. 

wafted  woodland  odours  both  sweet  and  acrid.  In- 
tense peace — an  unspeakably  beneficent  repose — 
reigns  around ;  in  grave  harmonious  accord  blend 
the  rushing  of  the  brook,  the  falling  of  the  rain, 
and  the  low  whisper  and  murmur  of  the  dripping 
leaves,  informing  the  silence  with  a  sense  of  enjoy- 
ment. 

"  How  beautiful !  how  wonderfully  beautiful  !" 
Stella  exclaims ;  her  soft  voice  has  a  strange  power 
to  touch  the  heart,  and  in  its  gayest  tones  there 
always  trembles  something  like  suppressed  tears. 

"  Yes,  it  is  beautiful,"  Rohritz  admits,  "but" — 
with  a  glance  of  mistrust  at  the  wretched  hacks — 
"when  we  shall  reach  "Wolfsegg  heaven  alone 
knows !" 

Is  he  so  very  anxious  to  reach  Wolfsegg  ?  To  be 
frank,  no !  He  feels  unreasonably  comfortable  in 
this  rain-drenched  solitude,  beside  this  pretty  fair- 
haired  child;  he  cannot  help  rejoicing  in  this  tete- 
cL-tete.  Since  the  day  when  Stella  thanked  him 
with  perhaps  exaggerated  warmth  for  returning  her 
locket,  she  has  never  seemed  so  much  at  her  ease 
with  him  as  now. 

The  desire  assails  him  to  probe  her  pure  inno- 
cent nature  without  her  knowledge, — to  learn  some- 
thing of  her  short  past,  of  her  true  self. 

Meanwhile,  he  repeats,  "  But  it  is  beautiful, — 
wonderfully  beautiful !" 

The  wretched  horses  drag  along  more  and  more 


IDYLLIC.  137 

laboriously.  Rohritz  has  much  ado  to  prevent  their 
drooping  their  gray  noses  to  the  ground  to  crop 
the  dripping  grass  that  clothes  each  side  of  the 
road  in  emerald  luxuriance. 

"  Delightful  task,  the  driving  of  these  lame 
hacks  !"  he  exclaims.  "  I  can  imagine  only  one 
pleasure  equal  to  it, — waltzing  with  a  lame  partner. 
This  last  I  know,  of  course,  only  from  hearsay." 

"  Did  you  never  dance  ?"  asks  Stella. 

"  No,  never  since  I  left  the  Academy.  Have 
you  been  to  many  balls  ?" 

"  Never  but  to  one,  in  Venice,  at  the  Princess 
Giovanelli's,"  Stella  replies.  "  After  the  first  waltz 
I  became  so  ill  that  I  would  not  run  the  risk  of 
fainting  and  making  myself  and  my  partner  ridicu- 
lous. My  enjoyment  then  consisted  in  sitting  for 
half  an  hour  between  two  old  ladies  on  a  sofa,  and 
eating  an  ice  to  restore  me.  At  twelve  o'clock 
punctually  I  hurried  back,  moreover,  to  the  Bri- 
tannia, for  I  knew  that  my  poor  sick  father  would 
sit  up  to  be  regaled  with  an  account  of  my  con- 
quests. He  was  firmly  convinced  that  I  should 
make  conquests.  Poor  papa !  You  must  not  laugh 
at  his  delusion  !  The  next  day  the  other  girls  in 
the  hotel  pitied  me  for  not  having  had  any  partner 
for  the  cotillon ;  they  displayed  their  bouquets  to 
me,  as  the  Indians  after  a  battle  show  the  scalps 
they  have  taken.  They  told  me  of  their  adorers, 
and  of  the  passions  funestes  which  they  had  in- 

12* 


138  ERLACH  COURT. 

spired,  and  asked  me  what  I  had  achieved  in  that 
direction.  And  I  could  only  cast  down  my  eyes, 
and  reply,  '  Nothing.'  And  to  think  that  to-day, 
after  all  these  years,  I  must  give  the  same  answer 
to  the  same  question, — 'Nothing!' ' 

"  You  have  never  danced,  then  !"  Rohritz  says, 
thoughtfully. 

Strange,  how  this  fact  attracts  him.  Stella  seems 
to  him  like  a  fruit  not  quite  ripened  by  the  sun, 
but  gleaming  among  cool,  overshadowing  foliage 
in  absolute,  untouched  freshness.  Such  dewy-fresh 
fruit  is  wonderfully  inviting ;  he  feels  almost  like 
stretching  out  his  hand  for  it.  But  no,  it  would 
be  folly, — ridiculous;  he  is  an  old  man,  she  a 
child  ;  it  is  impossible.  And  yet 

Both  are  so  absorbed  in  their  thoughts  that  they 
do  not  observe  how  very  dark  it  has  grown,  how 
threatening  is  the  aspect  of  the  skies.  Leaving 
the  ravine,  the  road  now  leads  along  the  bank  of 
the  Save.  The  pools  on  each  side  grow  deeper, 
the  mud  splashes  from  the  wheels  on  Stella's  knees  : 
she  does  not  notice  it. 

"  Your  last  remark  was  a  little  bold,"  Rohritz 
now  says,  bending  towards  her. 

"  Bold  ?"  Stella  repeats,  in  dismay :  <  bold,'  for 
her,  means  pert,  aggressive, — in  short,  something 
terrible. 

"  Yes,"  he  continues,  smiling  at  her  agitation ; 
"  you  asserted  something  that  seems  to  me  incredi- 


IDYLLIC.  139 

ble, — that  you  never  have  inspired  any  one  with 
a " 

He  hesitates. 

A  brilliant  flash  quivers  in  the  sky ;  by  its  light 
they  see  the  Save  foaming  along  in  its  narrow 
bed,  swollen  to  overflowing  by  the  recent  torrents 
of  rain.  Then  all  is  dark  as  night ;  a  loud  peal  of 
thunder  shakes  the  air,  and  the  blast  of  the  storm 
comes  hissing  as  if  with  repressed  fury  from  the 
mountains. 

The  horses  tremble,  one  of  them  stumbles  and 
falls,  the  traces  break,  and  down  goes  the  carriage. 

"  Now  we  are  done  for !"  Rohritz  exclaims,  as 
he  jumps  down  to  investigate  the  extent  of  the 
damage. 

Further  progress  is  out  of  the  question.  He 
succeeds  by  a  violent  effort  in  dragging  to  his  feet 
the  exhausted  horse,  then  unharnesses  both  ani- 
mals and  ties  them  as  well  as  he  can  to  a  picket- 
fence,  the  accident  having  occurred  close  to  an 
isolated  cottage  with  an  adjacent  garden.  Rohritz 
knocks  at  its  doors  and  windows  in  vain ;  no  one 
appears.  In  the  deep  recess  of  one  of  the  doors  is 
a  step  affording  a  tolerable  seat.  He  spreads  a 
plaid  over  it,  and  then,  going  to  Stella,  he  says, 
"  Allow  me  to  lift  you  down ;  I  must  drag  the  car- 
riage aside  from  the  road.  There !  you  are  not 
quite  sheltered  yet  from  the  rain ;  move  a  little 
farther  into  the  corner, — so." 


140  ERLACH   COURT. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  in  the  least  mind  getting  wet," 
Stella  assures  him ;  "  but  what  shall  we  do  ?  We 
cannot  sit  here  all  night  long  in  hopes  that  some 
chance  passers-by  may  fish  us  out  of  the  wet." 

"  If  you  could  walk,  there  would  be  no  difficulty. 
The  inn  this  side  of  the  ferry  is  only  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  off,  and  we  could  easily  hire  a  couple  of  horses 
there.  Can  you  stand  on  your  foot  ?" 

"  It  gives  me  a  great  deal  of  pain  to  stand,  and, 
since  Uncle  Jack  has  my  other  shoe  in  his  pocket, 
how  am  I  to  walk  ?" 

"  That  is  indeed  unfortunate." 

"You  had  better  go  for  help  to  the  inn  of 
which  you  speak,"  Stella  proposes. 

"  Then  I  should  have  to  leave  you  here  alone," 
says  Rohritz,  shaking  his  head. 

"  I  am  not  afraid,"  she  declares,  with  the  hardi- 
hood of  utter  inexperience. 

"  But  I  am  afraid  for  you ;  I  cannot  endure  the 
thought  of  leaving  you  here  alone  on  Sunday,  when 
all  the  men  about  are  intoxicated.  One  of  the 
roughest  of  them  might  chance  to  pass  by." 

"  In  all  probability  no  one  will  pass,"  says  Stella. 
"  Go  as  quickly  as  you  can,  that  we  may  get  away 
from  here." 

"In  fact,  she  is  right,"  Edgar  says  to  himself. 
He  turns  to  go,  then  returns  once  more,  and,  taking 
his  mackintosh  from  his  shoulders,  wraps  it  about 
her. 


IDYLLIC. 

He  is  gone.  How  slowly  time  passes  when  one 
is  waiting  in  the  dark !  With  monotonous  force,  in 
a  kind  of  grand  rhythmical  cadence  the  rain  pours 
down  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  swirling  Save. 
No  other  sound  is  to  be  heard.  Stella  looks  round 
at  the  horses,  which  she  can  dimly  discern.  One  is 
lying,  all  four  legs  stretched  out,  in  the  mud,  in 
the  position  in  which  artists  are  wont  to  portray 
horses  killed  on  a  battle-field ;  the  other  is  nibbling 
with  apparent  relish  at  some  greenery  that  has  grown 
across  the  garden  fence.  From  time  to  time  a  flash 
of  lightning  illumines  the  darkness.  Stella  takes 
out  her  watch  to  note  the  time  by  one  of  these 
momentary  illuminations.  It  must  have  stopped, 
— no,  it  is  actually  only  a  quarter  of  an  hour  since 
Edgar's  departure. 

Hark !  the  rolling  of  wheels  mingles  with  the 
rush  of  the  Save  and  the  plash  of  the  rain.  The 
sound  of  a  human  voice  falls  upon  the  girl's  ear. 
She  listens,  delighted.  Is  it  Rohritz .?  No,  that  is 
not  his  voice :  there  are  several  voices,  suspiciously 
rough, — peasants  rolling  past  in  a  small  basket- 
wagon,  trolling  some  monotonous  Slav  melody. 
By  a  red  flash  of  lightning  the  rude  company  is 
revealed,  the  driver  mercilessly  plying  his  whip 
upon  the  back  of  a  very  small  horse,  that  is  gal- 
loping through  the  mire  with  distended  nostrils  and 
fluttering  mane. 

Stella's  heart  beats,  her  boasted  courage  shrivels 


142  ERLACH  COURT. 

up  to  nothing.  A  few  more  minutes  pass,  and  now 
she  hears  steps.  Is  he  coming?  No;  the  steps 
approach  from  the  opposite  direction,  stumbling, 
dragging  steps, — those  of  a  drunkard. 

A  nameless,  unreasoning  dread  takes  possession 
of  her.  Ah !  she  hears  the  quick  firm  rhythm  of 
an  elastic  tread. 

"Baron  Rohritz!"  she  screams,  as  loud  as  she 
can.  "  B.aron  Rohritz !" 

The  step  quickens  into  a  run,  and  a  moment  later 
Rohritz  is  beside  her.  "  For  God's  sake,  what  is 
the  matter  ?"  he  says,  much  distressed. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  nothing, — only  a  drunken  man. 
My  courage  oozed  away  pitifully.  Heaven  knows 
whether,  if  you  had  not  appeared,  I  might  not  have 
plunged  into  the  Save  from  sheer  cowardice.  But 
all  is  well  now.  Is  a  vehicle  coming?" 

"  Unfortunately,  there  was  none  to  be  had.  I 
could  only  get  a  peasant-lad  to  take  care  of  the 
horses.  If  there  was  the  slightest  dependence  to 
be  placed  upon  these  confounded  brutes  I  could  put 
you  on  the  least  broken-down  of  them  and  lead 
him  slowly  to  the  inn.  But,  unfortunately,  I  am 
convinced  that  the  beast  could  not  carry  you :  he 
would  fall  with  you  in  the  first  pool  in  the  road. 
"With  all  the  desire  in  the  world  to  help  you,  I 
cannot.  You  must  try  to  walk  as  far  as  the  inn. 
I  have  brought  you  one  of  the  ferryman's  wife's 
shoes." 


IDYLLIC.  143 

And  while  Stella  is  putting  the  huge  patent- 
leather  shoe  on  her  bandaged  foot,  Rohritz  directs 
the  peasant-lad  to  fish  his  plaid  and  rugs  out  of  the 
mud  and  to  lead  the  horses  slowly  to  the  inn.  As 
he  walks  away  with  Stella  they  hear  the  boy's  loud 
drawling  l  Hey!'  '  Get  up,'  with  which  he  seeks  to 
inspirit  the  miserable  brutes. 

Leaning  on  the  arm  of  her  escort,  Stella  does  her 
best  to  proceed  without  yielding  to  the  pain  which 
every  minute  increases,  but  her  movements  grow 
slower  and  more  laboured,  and  finally  a  low  moan 
escapes  her  lips. 

"  Let  me  rest  just  one  moment,"  she  entreats, 
piteously,  ashamed  of  a  helplessness  of  which  a 
normally  constituted  woman  would  have  made 
capital. 

"  Do  not  walk  any  farther,"  he  rejoins,  and,  bend- 
ing over  her,  he  says,  with  decision,  "  I  pray  you 
put  your  right  arm  around  my  neck,  clasp  it  well  : 
treat  me  absolutely  as  a  porte-faix." 

"  But,  Baron " 

"Do  not  oppose  me,  I  entreat:  at  present  7  am 
in  command."  His  tone  is  very  kind,  but  also  very 
authoritative. 

She  obeys,  half  mechanically.  He  carries  her 
firmly  and  securely,  without  stumbling,  without 
betraying  the  slightest  fatigue.  At  first  her  sensa- 
tions are  distressing ;  then  slowly,  gradually,  a 
pleasant  sense  of  being  shielded  and  cared  for 


144  ERLACH  COURT. 

overcomes  her:  her  thoughts  stray  far,  far  into 
the  past, — back  to  the  time  when  her  father  hid 
her  against  his  breast  beneath  his  cavalry  cloak, 
and  she  looked  out  between  its  folds  from  the 
warm  darkness  upon  the  world  outside.  The  min- 
utes fly. 

"  We  are  here !"  Rohritz  says,  very  hoarsely. 

She  looks  up.  A  reddish  light  is  streaming 
out  into  the  darkness  from  the  windows  of  a  low, 
clumsy  building.  He  puts  her  down  on  the  thresh- 
old of  the  inn. 

"Thanks!"  she  murmurs,  without  looking  at 
him.  He  is  silent. 

The  inn  parlour  is  empty.  A  bright  fire  is  burn- 
ing in  the  huge  tiled  stove ;  the  fragrance  of  cedar- 
berries  slowly  scorching  on  its  ledge  neutralizes  in 
part  the  odour  of  old  cheese,  beer,  and  cheap  to- 
bacco plainly  to  be  perceived  in  spite  of  the  open 
window.  In  a  broad  cabinet  with  glazed  doors  are 
to  be  seen  among  various  monstrosities  of  glass 
and  porcelain  two  battered  sugar  ships  with  paper 
pennons,  and  a  bridal  wreath  with  crumpled  white 
muslin  blossoms  and  arsenic-green  leaves.  The 
portraits  of  their  Majesties,  very  youthful  in  ap- 
pearance, dating  from  their  coronation,  hang  on 
each  side  of  this  piece  of  furniture. 

Among  the  various  tables  covered  with  black 
oil-cloth  there  is  one  of  rustic  neatness  provided 
with  a  red-flowered  cover,  and  set  with  greenish 


IDYLLIC.  145 

glasses,  blue-rimmed  plates,  and  iron  knives  and 
forks  with  wooden  handles. 

The  hostess,  a  colossal  dame,  who  looks  like  a 
meal-sack  with  a  string  tied  around  its  middle, 
makes  her  appearance,  to  receive  the  unfortunates 
and  to  place  her  entire  wardrobe  at  Stella's  disposal. 

"  Can  we  not  go  on,  then  ?"  Stella  asks,  in  dismay. 

"  Unfortunately,  no.  I  have  sent  to  the  nearest 
village  for  some  sort  of  conveyance,  and  my  mes- 
senger cannot  possibly  return  in  less  than  an  hour. 
And  I  must  prepare  you  for  another  unfortunate 
circumstance  :  we  shall  be  forced  to  go  by  a  very 
long  and  roundabout  road ;  the  Groblach  bridge  is 
carried  away,  and  the  Save  is  whirling  along  in  its 
current  the  pillars  and  ruins,  making  the  ferry 
impracticable  for  the  present." 

"  Oh,  good  heavens !"  sighs  Stella,  who  has 
meanwhile  taken  off  her  dripping  water-proof  and 
wrapped  about  her  shoulders  a  thick  red  shawl 
loaned  her  by  the  hostess.  "  Well,  at  least  we  are 
under  shelter." 

Thereupon  the  hostess  brings  in  a  grass-green 
waiter  on  which  are  placed  a  dish  of  ham  and  eggs 
and  a  can  of  beer. 

"  I  ordered  a  little  supper,  but  I  cannot  vouch 
for  the  excellence  of  the  viands,"  Rohritz  says, 
in  French,  to  Stella.  "  I  should  be  glad  if  you 
would  consent  to  eat  something  warm.  It  is  the 
best  preventive  against  cold." 
G  k  13 


146  ERLACH  COURT. 

Stella  shows  no  disposition  to  criticise  what  is 
thus  set  before  her.  "  How  pleasant !"  she  ex- 
claims, gaily,  taking  her  seat  at  the  table.  "  I  am 
terribly  hungry,  and  I  had  not  ventured  to  hope  for 
anything  to  eat  before  midnight." 

It  is  a  pleasure  to  him  to  sit  opposite  to  her, 
looking  at  her  pretty,  cheerful  face, — a  pleasure  to 
laugh  at  her  gay  sallies. 

Would  it  not  be  charming  to  sit  opposite  to  her 
thus  daily  at  his  own  table, — to  lavish  care  and 
tenderness  upon  the  poor  child  who  had  been  so 
neglected  and  thrust  out  into  the  world, — to  spoil 
and  pet  her  to  his  heart's  content  ?  "  Grasp  your 
chance, — grasp  it!"  the  heart  in  his  bosom  cries 
out :  "  her  lot  is  hard,  she  is  grateful  for  a  little 
sympathy, — will  she  not  smile  on  you  in  spite  of 
your  gray  hair ?"  But  reason  admonishes:  "For- 
bear !  she  is  only  a  child.  To  be  sure,  if,  as  she 
has  avowed,  her  heart  be  really  untouched,  why 
then " 

Whilst  he,  absorbed  in  such  careful  musings, 
grows  more  and  more  taciturn,  she  chatters  away 
gaily  upon  every  conceivable  topic,  devouring  with 
an  appetite  to  be  envied  the  frugal  refection  he 
has  provided. 

"  It  is  delightful,  our  improvised  supper,"  she 
declares,  "  almost  as  charming  as  the  little  suppers 
at  the  Britannia  which  papa  used  to  have  ready 
for  me  when  I  came  home  from  parties  in  Venice, 


IDYLLIC.  147 

as  terribly  hungry  as  one  always  is  on  returning 
from  a  Venetian  soiree,  where  one  is  delightfully 
entertained  but  gets  nothing  to  eat." 

"  It  seems,  then,  that  the  Giovanelli  ball  was  not 
your  only  glimpse  of  Venetian  society?"  Rohritz 
remarks,  with  a  glance  that  is  well-nigh  indis- 
creetly searching. 

"  Before  papa  grew  so  much  worse  I  very  often 
went  out :  papa  insisted  upon  it.  The  Countess 
L chaperoned  me.  And  at  Lady  Stair's  even- 
ings in  especial  I  enjoyed  myself  almost  as  much 
as  I  was  bored  at  the  Giovanelli  ball.  I  cannot, 
'tis  true,  dance ;  but  talk," — she  laughs  somewhat 
shyly,  as  if  in  ridicule  of  her  talkativeness, — "  I 
can  talk." 

"  That  there  is  nothing  to  eat  at  a  Venetian 
soiree  I  know  from  experience,"  Rohritz  says, 
rather  ill-humouredly,  "  but  how  one  can  find 
any  enjoyment  there  I  am  absolutely  unable  to 
understand.  Venetian  society  is  terrible  :  the  men . 
especially  are  intolerable." 

"  I  did  not  find  it  so,"  Stella  declares,  shaking 
her  head  with  her  usual  grave  simplicity  in  assert- 
ing her  opinion ;  "  not  at  all." 

"  But  you  must  confess  that  Italians  are  usually 
low-toned  ;  that " 

"  But  I  did  not  meet  Italians  exclusively ;  I  met 
Austrians,  English,  Russians;  although  in  fact" 
— she  pauses  reflectively,  then  says,  with  couvic- 


148  ERLACH  COURT. 

tion — "  the  nicest  of  all,  my  very  particular  friend, 
was  an  Italian,  Prince  Zino  Capito." 

"  He  calls  himself  an  Austrian,"  Kohritz  in- 
terposes. 

"  He  was  born  in  Rome,"  Stella  rejoins. 

"  I  see  you  know  all  about  him,"  Rohritz  ob- 
serves. 

"  We  saw  a  great  deal  of  each  other,"  Stella 
chatters  on  easily.  "  We  were  in  the  same  hotel, 
papa  and  I,  and  the  Prince.  His  place  at  table 
was  next  to  mine,  and  in  fine  weather  he  used  to 
take  us  to  sail  in  his  cutter.  He  often  came  in 
the  evenings  to  play  bezique  with  papa.  He  was 
very  kind  to  papa." 

"  Evidently,"  Rohritz  observes. 

"  You  seem  to  dislike  him  !"  Stella  says,  in  some 

V  ' 

surprise. 

"Not  at  all.  We  always  got  along  very  well 
together,"  Rohritz  coldly  assures  her.  "  I  know 
him  intimately ;  my  oldest  brother  married  his 
sister  Therese." 

"  Ah !  is  she  as  handsome  as  he  ?"  Stella  asks, 
innocently. 

"  Very  graceful  and  distinguished  in  appearance ; 
she  does  not  resemble  him  at  all."  And  with  a 
growing  sharpness  in  his  tone  Rohritz  adds, — 

"  Do  you  think  him  so  very  handsome  ?" 

The  hostess  interrupts  them  by  bringing  in  a 
dish  of  inviting  strawberries.  Stella  thanks  her 


IDYLLIC.  149 

kindly  for  her  excellent  supper,  the  woman  says 
something  to  Rohritz  in  the  peasant  patois,  which 
Stella  does  not  understand,  and  he  fastens  his  eye- 
glass in  his  eye,  a  sign  with  him  of  a  momentary 
access  of  ill  humour. 

After  the  woman  has  withdrawn  he  remarks, 
with  an  odd  twinkle  of  his  eyes,  "  How  many  years 
too  young  did  you  say  I  was,  Baroness  Stella,  to 
be  your  father? — four  or  five,  was  it  not?  Eh 
bien,  our  hostess  thinks  differently :  she  has  just 
congratulated  me  upon  my  charming  daughter." 

But  Stella  has  no  time  to  make  reply  :  her  eyes 
are  riveted  in  horror  upon  the  clock  against  the 
wall.  "  Is  it  really  half-past  ten  ?"  she  exclaims. 
"  No,  thank  heaven ;  the  clock  has  stopped.  What 
o'clock  is  it,  Baron  Rohritz  ?" 

"A  quarter  after  eleven,"  he  says,  startled 
himself,  and  rather  uncomfortable.  "  I  do  not 
understand  why  the  messenger  is  not  here  with 
the  conveyance." 

"Good  heavens!"  Stella  cries,  in  utter  dismay. 
"  "What  will  mamma  say  ?" 

"  Be  reasonable.  Your  mother  cannot  blame 
you  in  this  case ;  she  must  be  informed  that  it  was 
impossible  to  cross  the  ferry,"  he  says,  anxious 
himself  about  the  matter,  however. 

"  Certainly ;  but  while  she  does  not  know  of 
our  break-down  she  will  think  we  have  had  plenty 
of  time  to  reach  Wolfsegg  by  the  longest  way 

13* 


150  ERLACH  COURT. 

round.  You  certainly  acted  for  the  best,  but  it 
would  have  been  better,  much  better,  if  Uncle 
Jack  had  stayed  with  me.  He  knows  all  about 
the  country,  and  he  has  a  decided  way  of  making 
these  lazy  peasants  do  as  he  pleases." 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  with  all  his  knowledge  of 
the  country,  and  his  decision  of  character,  he  could 
have  succeeded  in  procuring  you  a  conveyance," 
Rohritz  says,  with  growing  irritation. 

"  If  the  ferry  is  useless,  perhaps  we  might  cross 
in  a  skiff,"  Stella  says,  almost  in  tears. 

"  I  will  see  what  is  to  be  done,"  he  rejoins. 
"At  all  events  it  shall  not  be  my  fault  if  your 
mother's  anxiety  is  not  fully  appeased  in  the  course 
of  the  next  half-hour." 

With  this  he  leaves  the  room.  Shortly  after- 
wards the  hostess  makes  her  appearance. 

"  Where  has  the  Herr  Papa  gone  ?"  she  asks. 

"  He  has  gone  out  to  see  if  we  cannot  cross  the 
Save  in  a  boat." 

"  He  cannot  do  it  to-night,"  the  woman  asserts. 

"  He  would  surely  not  think  of "  Without 

finishing  her  sentence  she  puts  down  the  plate  of 
cheese  she  has  just  brought,  and  hurries  away. 

Stella  is  perplexed.  What  does  he  mean  to  do  ? 
What  is  the  hostess  so  foolishly  afraid  of?  She 
limps  to  the  open  window,  and  sees  Rohritz  on  the 
bank  of  the  stream,  talking  in  the  Slavonic  dialect, 
which  she  does  not  understand,  with  a  rou^h-look- 


IDYLLIC. 

ing  man.  The  rain  has  ceased,  the  clouds  are  rent 
and  flying,  and  from  among  them  the  moon  shines 
with  a  bluish  lustre,  strewing  silver  gleams  upon 
the  quiet  road  with  its  net-work  of  pools  and  ruts, 
upon  the  wildly-rushing  Save  with  its  foaming 
billows,  upon  the  black  roof  of  the  hut  which 
serves  as  a  shelter  for  the  ferrymen,  and  upon  a 
rocking  skiff  which  is  fastened  to  the  shore.  A 
sudden  dread  seizes  upon  Stella,  a  dread  stronger 
by  far  than  her  childish  fear  of  her  mother's  harsh 
words.  The  hostess  enters. 

"  Not  a  bit  will  the  gentleman  heed, — stiff-necked 
he  is, — the  water  boiling,  and  not  a  man  will  risk 
the  rowing  him  :  he  be's  to  sail  alone  to  Wolfsegg, 
and  ne'er  a  one  can  hinder  him." 

Stella  sees  Rohritz  get  into  the  skiff,  sees  the 
fisherman  take  hold  of  the  chain  that  fastens  it  to 
the  shore.  Not  even  conscious  of*  the  pain  in  her 
wounded  foot,  she  rushes  out,  and  across  the  muddy 
road  to  the  bank,  where  the  fisherman  has  already 
unfastened  the  chain  and  is  preparing  to  push  the 
boat  out  of  the  swamp  into  the  rushing  current. 

"  Good  heavens !  are  you  mad  ?"  she  calls  aloud 
to  Rohritz.  "  What  are  you  about  ?" 

Rohritz  turns  hastily;  their  eyes  meet  in  the 
moonlight.  "  After  what  you  said  to  me  there  is 
nothing  for  me  to  do  save  to  shield  your  reputa- 
tion at  all  hazards. — Push  off!"  he  orders  the 
fisherman. 


152  ERLACH  COURT. 

"  No,"  she  calls :  "  it  never  occurred  to  me  to 
consider  my  reputation.  I  was  only  a  coward,  and 
afraid  of  mamma." 

The  fisherman  hesitates.  Rohritz  takes  the  oars. 
"  Push  ofi'!"  he  orders,  angrily. 

"  Do  so,  if  you  choose,"  Stella  cries,  "  but  you 
will  take  me  with  you!"  Whereupon  she  jumps 
into  the  boat,  and,  striking  her  poor  wounded  foot 
against  a  seat,  utterly  breaks  down  with  the  pain. 
"  I  was  a  coward ;  yes,  yes,  I  was  afraid  of  mamma; 
but  I  would  rather  have  her  refuse  to  speak  to  me 
than  have  you  drowned,"  she  sobs. 

Her  streaming  eyes  are  riveted  in  great  distress 
upon  his  face,  and  her  soft,  trembling  hands  try 
to  clasp  his  arm.  About  the  skiff  the  waves  plash, 
"  Grasp  it,  grasp  it ;  your  happiness  lies  at  your 
feet !" 

His  whole  frame  is  thrilled.  He  stoops  and  lifts 

her  up.  "  But,  Stella,  my  poor  foolish  angel " 

he  begins. 

At  this  moment  there  is  a  rattle  of  wheels,  and 
then  the  captain's  voice  :  "  Rohritz  !  Rohritz  !" 

"  All's  right  now !"  says  Rohritz,  drawing  a  deep 
breath. 

As  it  now  appears,  the  captain  has  come  by  the 
long  roundabout  road,  with  a  borrowed  vehicle,  to 
the  relief  of  the  unfortunates.  The  general,  who, 
whatever  disagreeable  qualities  he  may  possess,  is 
a 'gentleman  coachman'  of  renown,  has  declared 


IDYLLIC.  153 

himself  quite  ready  to  conduct  the  landau  with 
its  spirited  span  of  horses  to  Erlach  Court. 

"  What  have  you  been  about  ?  "What  has  hap- 
pened to  you  ?"  the  captain  repeats,  and  he  shakes 
his  head,  claps  his  hands,  and  laughs  by  turns,  as 
with  mutual  interruptions  and  explanations  the  tale 
of  disaster  is  unfolded  to  him. 

Then  Stella  is  packed  inside  the  little  vehicle, 
Rohritz  takes  his  place  beside  her,  and  the  captain 
is  squeezed  up  on  the  front  seat. 

Before  fifteen  minutes  are  over  Stella  is  sound 
asleep.  Rohritz  wraps  his  plaid  about  her  shoul- 
ders without  her  knowledge. 

"  She  is  tired  out,"  he  whispers.  "  I  only  hope 
her  foot  is  not  going  to  give  her  trouble.  Were 
you  very  anxious  ?" 

"  My  wife  was  almost  beside  herself.  My  sister 
took  the  matter,  on  the  contrary,  very  quietly,  until 
finally  Stasy  put  some  ridiculous  ideas  of  impro- 
priety into  her  head,  and  then  she  talked  nonsense, 
alternately  scolding  you  and  the  child,  marching 
up  and  down  the  common  room  at  the  Wolfsegg 
inn  like"  a  bear  in  a  cage,  until  I  could  bear  it  no 
longer,  but  left  the  entire  party  on  the  general's 
shoulders  to  be  driven  home,  and  set  out  in  search 
of  you.  How  did  Stella  behave  herself?  Did  she 
give  you  any  trouble  ?" 

"  No ;  she  was  very  quiet." 

"  She  is  a  dear  girl,  is  she  not?     Poor  child  !  she 


154  ERLACH  COURT. 

really  has  had  too  much  to  bear.  Of  course  I  would 
not  confess  it  to  Stasy,  but  it  is  a  fact  that  if  any 
other  man  had  been  in  your  place  I  should  have 
been  excessively  annoyed." 

"  My  gray  hair  has  been  of  immense  advantage 
to  your  niece,"  Rohritz  assured  him.  "  The  hostess 
at  the  ferry  persisted  in  taking  me  for  her  father." 

"  Nonsense !" 

"  Nonsense  which  at  least  showed  me  at  the  right 
moment  precisely  where  I  stood,"  Rohritz  mur- 
mured. "  And,  between  ourselves, — never  allude 

to  it  again, — it  was  necessary." 
*  *  ***** 

The  captain,  who  naturally  enough  sees  nothing 
in  his  friend's  words  but  an  allusion  to  his  altered 
circumstances,  sighs,  and  thinks,  "  "What  a  pity !" 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

A   DEPARTURE. 

* 

WHEN  the  three  wanderers  arrive,  at  Erlach 
Court  a  little  after  midnight,  they  find  the  rest  in 
the  dining-room,  still  sitting  around  the  remains  of 
a  very  much  over-cooked  dinner.  Stasy,  in  a  pink 
peignoir,  hails  Rohritz  upon  his  entrance  with,  "  I 
have  won  my  bet, — six  pair  of  Jouvin's  gloves 


A    DEPARTURE.  155 

from  Katrine.  I  wagered  you  would  be  late — 
ha!  ha!" 

"A' fact  easy  to  foresee,  in  view  of  the  condi- 
tion of  the  horses  and  the  roads,"  Rohritz  rejoins, 
frowning. 

The  affair,  so  far  as  it  concerns  Stella,  who  ap- 
proaches her  mother  with  fear  and  trembling, 
turns  out  fairly  well.  As  the  Baroness's  natural 
feeling  of  maternal  anxiety  for  her  daughter's 
safety  has  only  been  temporarily  disturbed  by 
Stasy's  insinuations,  she  forgets  to'  scold  Stella,  in 
her  joy  at  seeing  her  safe  and  sound.  That  she 
may  not  give  way  to  an  outburst  of  anger  upon 
further  consideration,  and  that  an  end  may  be  put 
to  Stasy's  jests,  the  captain  instantly  plunges  into 
a  detailed  account  of  all  the. mishaps  that  have 
befallen  Stella  and  her  escort. 

Katrine  meanwhile  searches  for  a  telegram  that 
has  arrived  for  Rohritz,  finally  discovering  it  under 
an  old-fashioned  decanter  on  the  sideboard. 

"  "What  is  the  matter  ?"  she  asks,  kindly,  seeing 
him  change  colour  upon  reading  it. 

"Moritz,  an  apoplectic  stroke,  come  immediately. 

ERNESTINE." 

he  reads  aloud.  "  'Tis  from  my  eldest  sister.  Poor 
Tina!"  he  murmurs.  "I  must  leave  to-morrow 
by  the  seven-o'clock  train  from  Gradenik.  Caii 
you  let  me  have  a  pair  of  horses,  Les  ?" 


156  ERLACH  COURT. 

The  captain  sends  instantly  to  have  everything 
in  readiness. 

Shortly  afterwards  Rohritz  takes  leave  of  the 
ladies;  he  does  not,  of  course,  venture  to  expect 
that  after  the  fatigues  of  the  day  they  will  rise 
before  six  in  the  morning  for  his  sake.  Stella's 
hand  he  retains  a  few  seconds  longer  than  he  ought, 
and  he  notices  that  it  trembles  in  his  own. 

So  summary  is  his  mode  of  preparation  that  his 
belongings  are  all  packed  in  little  more  than  half 
an  hour,  and  he  then  disposes  himself  to  spend  the 
rest  of  the  night  in  refreshing  slumber.  But  sleep 
is  denied  him :  a  strange  unrest  possesses  him. 
Happiness  knocks  at  the  door  of  his  heart  and 
entreats,  'Ah,  let  me  in,  let  me  in !'  But  Reason 
stands  sentinel  there  and  refuses  to  admit  her. 

He  tossed  to  and  fro  for  hours,  unable  to  compose 
himself.  Towards  morning  he  had  a  strange  dream. 
He  seemed  to  be  walking  in  a  lovely  summer  night: 
the  moon  shone  bright  through  the  branches  of  an 
old  linden,  and  lay  in  arabesque  patterns  of  light 
on  the  dark  ground  beneath.  Suddenly  he  per- 
ceived a  small  dark  object  lying  at  his  feet,  and 
when  he  stooped  to  see  what  it  was  he  found  it  was 
a  little  bird  that  had  fallen  out  of  the  nest  and  now 
looked  up  at  him  sadly  and  helplessly  from  large 
dark  eyes.  He  picked  it  up  and  warmed  it  against 
his  breast.  It  nestled  delightedly  into  his  hand. 
He  pressed  his  lips  to  the  warm  little  head;  an 


A  DEPARTURE.  157 

electric  thrill  shot  through  his  veins.  "  Stella,  my 
poor,  dear,  foolish  child !"  he  murmured. 

Rat-tat-tat — rat-tat-tat!  He  started  and  awoke. 
The  servant  was  knocking  at  his  door  to  arouse  him. 
"  The  Herr  Baron's  hot  shaving- water." 

When,  half  an  hour  later,  he  appears,  dressed 
with  his  usual  fastidious  care,  in  the  dining-room, 
he  finds  both  the  master  and  the  mistress  of  the 
house  already  there  to  do  the  honours  of  what  he 
calls,  with  courteous  exaggeration,  *  the  last  meal  of 
the  condemned.'  Shortly  afterwards  Stasy  appears. 
The  general,  through  a  servant,  makes  a  back-ache 
a  plea  for  not  rising  at  so  early  an  hour. 

The  carriage  is  announced;  Rohritz  kisses  Ka- 
trine's hand  and  thanks  her  for  some  delightful 
weeks.  She  and  the  captain  accompany  him  to  the 
carriage,  while  Stasy  contents  herself  with  kissing 
her  hand  to  him  from  the  terrace.  At  the  last 
moment  Rohritz  discovers  that  he  has  no  matches, 
and  a  servant  is  sent  into  the  house  to  get  him 
some. 

"  It  is  settled  between  us,  now,"  Katrine  begins, 
"  that  whenever  you  are  fairly  tired  out  with  man- 
kind in  general " 

"  I  shall  come  to  Erlach  Court  to  learn  to  prize 
it  in  particular;  most  certainly,  madame,"  Rohritz 
replies,  his  glance  roving  restlessly  among  the 
upper  windows  of  the  castle.  "  Au  revoir  at 
Christmas !" 

14 


158  ERLACH  COURT. 

The  morning  is  cool;  the  cloudless  skies  are 
pale  blue,  the  turf  silver  gray  with  dew ;  the  car- 
riage makes  deep  ruts  in  the  moist  gravel  of  the 
sweep ;  the  blossoms  have  fallen  from  the  linden 
and  are  lying  by  thousands  shrivelled  and  faded  at 
its  feet,  while  the  rustle  of  the  dripping  dew  among 
its  mighty  branches  can  be  distinctly  heard. 

The  servant  brings  the  matches.  Rohritz  still 
lingers. 

"  Do  not  forget,  madame,  to  bid  the  Baroness 

Meineck "  he  begins,  when  the  sound  of  a 

limping  foot-fall  strikes  his  ear.  He  turns  hastily  : 
it  is  Stella, — Stella  in  a  white  morning  gown,  her 
hair  loosely  twisted  up,  very  pale,  very  charming, 
her  eyes  gazing  large  and  grave  from  out  her 
mobile  countenance. 

"  Have  you,  too,  made  your  appearance  at  last, 
you  lazy  little  person  ?  'Tis  very  good  of  you, — 
highly  praiseworthy,"  the  captain  says,  with  a  laugh 
to  annul  the  effect  of  Stella's  innocent  eagerness. 

A  burst  of  laughter  comes  from  the  terrace. 

"I  hope  you  are  duly  gratified,  Baron,"  a  dis- 
cordant voice  calls  out.  "When  our  little  girl 
gets  up  at  six  o'clock  it  must  be  for  a  very  grand 
occasion !" 

Blushing  painfully,  Stella  with  difficulty  restrains 
her  tears ;  she  says  not  a  word,  but  stands  there 
absolutely  paralyzed  with  embarrassment. 

"  I  thank  you  from  my  heart  for  your  kindness," 


A  DEPARTURE.  159 

Rohritz  says,  hastily  approaching  her.  "  I  should 
have  regretted  infinitely  not  seeing  you  to  say 
good-bye." 

"  You  had  a  great  deal  of  trouble  with  me  yes- 
terday, and  were  very  patient,"  she  manages  to 
stammer.  "  Except  Uncle  Jack,  no  one  has  been 
so  kind  to  me  as  you,  since  papa  died,  and  I 
wanted  to  thank  you  for  it." 

He  takes  her  soft,  warm  little  hand  in  his  and 
carries  it  to  his  lips. 

"  "God  guard  you !"  he  murmurs. 

"  Hurry,  or  you  will  be  too  late !"  the  captain 
calls  to  him.  He  is  going  to  accompany  him  to 
the  station,  and  he  fairly  drags  him  away  to  the 
carriage. 

The  driver  cracks  his  whip,  the  horses  start  off, 
Rohritz  waves  his  hat  for  a  last  farewell,  and  the 
carriage  vanishes  behind  the  iron  gates  of  the  park. 

"  Poor  Stella !  poor  Stella !"  Stasy  screams  from 
the  terrace,  fairly  convulsed  with  laughter.  "  De- 
lightful fellow,  Rohritz :  he  knows  what  he's 
about !" 

But  Stella  covers  her  burning  face  with  her 
hands.  "  I  will  go  into  a  convent,"  she  says ; 
"  there  at  least  I  shall  be  able  to  conduct  myself 
properly." 

Meanwhile,  Rohritz  and  the  captain  roll  on 
towards  the  station.  They  are  both  silent. 

"He  is  desperately  in  love  with  her,"  thinks 


160  ERLACH  COURT. 

the  captain.  "  Is  he  really  too  poor  to  marry,  I 
wonder?" 

Yes,  it  is  true  Rohritz  is  desperately  in  love  with 
her ;  she  hovers  before  his  eyes  in  all  her  loveliness 
like  a  vision.  He  would  fain  stretch  out  his  arms 
to  her,  but  he  is  perpetually  tormented  by  the 
persistent  question,  "  "Whom  does  she  resemble  ?" 
Suddenly  he  knows.  The  knowledge  almost  par- 
alyzes him ! 

Beside  the  pure,  fresh  vision  of  Stella  he  sees 
leaning  over  a  black-haired,  vagabond-looking  man 
at  the  roulette-table  at  Baden-Baden  the  hectic 
ruin  of  a  woman  who  has  been  magnificently 
beautiful,  a  woman  with  painted  cheeks  and  with 
deep  lines  about  her  eyes  and  mouth, — otherwise 
the  very  image  of  Stella. 

Twelve  years  since  he  had  seen  her  thus,  and 
upon  asking  who  she  was  had  been  told  that  she 
was  the  mistress  of  the  Spanish  violinist  Correze, 
and  that  she  was  little  by  little  sacrificing  her 
entire  fortune  to  gratify  the  artist's  love  of  gaming. 
His  informant  added  that  she  was  a  woman  of 
birth  and  position,  and  that  she  had  left  her  hus- 
band and  child  in  obedience  to  the  promptings  of 
passion.  He  did  not  know  her  husband's  name: 
she  called  herself  then  Madame  Correze. 

Why  do  all  Stasy's  malicious  remarks  about 
Stella's  unpleasant  connections,  and  about  the 
Meineck  temperament,  crowd  into  his  mind  ? 


A   DEPARTURE.  161 

There  is  no  denying  that  Stella  is  lacking  in  a 
certain  kind  of  reserve. 

While  he  is  waiting  with  the  captain  beneath 
the  vine-wreathed  shed  of  the  station  for  the  train 
which  has  just  been  signalled,  these  hateful  thoughts 
refuse  to  be  banished.  He  suddenly  asks  his  friend, 
who  stands  smoking;  in  silence  beside  him, — 

o  * 

"  What  is  the  story  about  your  sister's  sister-in- 
law  to  which  Fraulein  von  Gurlichingen  so  often 
alludes?  Was  she  the  same  Eugenie  Meineck  to 
whom  you  were  once  devoted  ?" 

"  Yes,"  the  captain  makes  reply,  half  closing  his 
eyes,  "  and  she  was  a  charming,  enchanting  crea- 
ture; Stella  reminds  me  of  her.  No  one  has  a 
good  word  for  her  now,  but  there  was  a  time  when 
it  was  impossible  to  pet  and  praise  her  enough." 

"What  became  of  her?" 

"  She  fell  into  bad — or  rather  into  incapable — 
hands.  She  married  an  elderly  man  who  did  not 
know  how  to  manage  her.  Good  heavens !  the 
best  horse  stumbles  under  a  bad  rider,  and " 

"Well,  and ?" 

"  She  had  not  been  married  long  when  she  ran 
off  with  a  Spanish  musician,  a  coarse  fellow,  who 
beat  her,  and  ran  through  her  property.  He  was 
quite  famous.  His  name  was — was "  The  cap- 
tain snaps  his  fingers  impatiently. 

"  Correze  ?"  Rohritz  interposes. 

"  Yes,  that  is  it,— Correze !" 

I  14* 


162  ERLACH  COURT. 

At  this  momeut  the  train  arrives. 

"  All  kind  messages  to  the  ladies  at  Erlach  Court, 
and  many  thanks  for  your  hospitality,  Jack !" 
Rohritz  says,  jumping  into  the  coupe. 

"  I  hope  we  shall  see  you  soon  again,  old  fellow ; 
but — hrn  ! — have  you  no  message  for  my  foolish 
little  Stella  ?"  asks  the  captain. 

"  I  hope  with  all  my  heart  that  she  may  soon  fall 
into  good  hands !"  Rohritz  says,  with  emphasis,  in 
a  hard  vibrant  voice. 

An  1  the  train  whizzes  away. 

"  The  deuce !"  thinks  the  captain;  "there's  but 
a  slim  chance  for  the  poor  girl.  Good  heavens  ! 
if  I  loved  Stella  and  my  circumstances  did  not 
allow  of  my  marrying,  I'd  take  up  some  profession. 
But  Rohritz  is  too  fine  a  gentleman  for  that." 

Meanwhile,  Rohritz  leans  back  discontentedly  in 
the  corner  of  an  empty  coupe. 

"A  charming,  bewitching  creature, — Stella  re- 
sembles her,"  he  murmurs  to  himself.  "  She  mar- 
ried an  elderly  man  from  pique,  and  so  on."  He 
lights  a  cigar  and  puffs  forth  thick  clouds  of 
smoke.  "  She  might  not  have  married  me  from 
pique,  but  from  loneliness,  from  gratitude  for  a 
little  sympathy.  And  if  Zino  had  come  across  her 

later  on I  was  on  the  point  of  losing  my  head. 

Thank  God  it  is  over!" 

lie  sat  still  for  a  while,  his  head  propped  upon 
his  hand,  and  then  found  that  his  cigar  had  gone 


SCATTERED.  163 

out.  With  an  impatient  gesture  he  tossed  it  out 
of  the  window. 

"  I  could  not  have  believed  I  should  have  had 
such  an  attack  at  my  years,"  he  muttered.  He 
set  his  teeth,  and  his  face  took  on  a  resolute  ex- 
pression. "  It  must  he,"  he  said  to  himself. 

Outside  the  wind  sighed  among  the  trees  and  in 
the  tall  meadow-grass. 

It  sounded  to  him  like  the  sobbing  of  his  rejected 
happiness. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

SCATTERED. 

SUMMER  has  gone.  The  birds  are  silent ;  brown 
leaves  cover  the  green  grass,  falling  thicker  and 
thicker  from  the  weary  trees ;  long,  white  gossa- 
mers float  in  the  damp,  oppressive  air:  the  autumn 
is  weaving  a  shroud  for  the  dying  year. 

Scared  by  the  whistling  blasts  and  the  floods  of 
rain,  the  swallows  have  assembled  in  dark  flocks  \ 
they  are  seen  in  long  rows  on  the  telegraph-wires 
in  eager  twittering  discussion  of  their  approaching 
flight,  and  then,  the  next  morning,  early,  before 
the  lingering  autumn  sun  has  opened  its  drowsy 
eyes,  the  heavens  are  black  with  their  flying 
squadrons. 


164  ERLACH  COURT. 

But  the  final  death-struggle  is  not  yet  over,  the 
warmth  in  all  vegetation  is  not  yet  chilled ;  bright 
flowers  still  bloom  at  the  feet  of  the  fast-thinning 
trees,  and,  shaking  the  falling  leaves  from  their 
cups,  laugh  up  at  the  blue  skies. 

The  little  company  which  at  the  beginning  of 
this  simple  story  we  found  assembled  at  Erlach 
Court  is  now  dispersed  to  all  quarters  of  the  world : 
the  general  is  '  grazing,'  as  Jack  Leskjewitsch  ex- 
presses it,  with  somebody  in  Southern  Hungary; 
Stasy  is  fluttering,  with  sweet  smiles  and  covert 
malice,  from  friend  to  friend,  see*ming  at  present 
on  the  lookout  for  a  fixed  engagement  for  the  win- 
ter; Rohritz  is  off  on  his  wonted  autumnal  hunt- 
ing-expedition, and  more  than  usually  bored  by  it; 
and  the  Leskjewitsches  are  still  at  Erlach  Court, 
where  Freddy  is  in  perpetual  conflict  with  his  new 
tutor,  a  spare,  lank  philosopher  lately  imported  for 
him  from  Bohemia,  and  Katrine  quaffs  full  draughts 
of  her  beloved  solitude,  without  experiencing  the 
great  degree  of  rapture  she  had  anticipated  from 
it;  there  is  a  cloud  upon  her  brow,  and  her  annoy- 
ance is  principally  due  to  the  fact  that  the  captain 
begins  to  show  unmistakable  signs  of  a  lapse  from 
his  former  manly  energy  of  character ;  he  scarcely 
holds  himself  as  erect  as  was  his  wont,  and  the  only 
occupation  which  he  pursues  with  any  notable  de- 
gree of  self-sacrifice  and  devotion  is  the  breaking 
of  a  pair  of  very  young  and  very  fiery  horses.  This 


SCATTERED.  165 

praiseworthy  pursuit,  however,  absorbs  only  a  few 
hours  at  most  of  each  day,  and  he  kills  the  rest  of 
the  time  as  best  he  can,  irritating  by  his  idleness 
his  wife,  who  is  always  occupied  with  most  inter- 
esting matters.  In  addition  he  reads  silly  novels, 
and  greatly  admires  the  *  Maitre  de  Forges.' 

"  How  can  any  man  admire  the  '  Maitre  de 
Forges'  ?"  Katrine  asks,  indignantly. 

The  Baroness  and  Stella  have  been  back  in  their 
mill-cottage  at  Zalow  for  many  weeks,  and  Stella 
is,  as  usual,  left  entirely  to  herself. 

In  addition  to  the  daily  scribbling  over  of  various 
sheets  of  foolscap,  the  Baroness,  instead  of  bestow- 
ing any  attention  upon  her  daughter,  is  mainly 
occupied  with  superintending  the  carrying  out  of 
all  the  governmental  prophylactic  measures  which 
are  to  secure  to  Zalow  entire  immunity  from  the 
cholera.  She  has  come  off  victorious  in  many  a 
battle  with  the  culpably  negligent  village  authority, 
and,  to  the  immense  edification  of  the  inmates  of 
the  various  villas,  already  somewhat  accustomed 
to  the  vagaries  of  the  Baroness  Meineck,  she  now 
goes  from  one  manure-heap  to  another  of  the 
place,  at  the  head  of  a  battalion  of  barefooted 
village  children  provided  with  watering-pots  filled 
with  a  disinfectant,  the  due  apportionment  of  which 
she  thus  oversees  herself. 

It  was  long  an  undecided  question  whether  this 
winter,  like  the  last,  should  be  spent  in  Zalow. 


166  ERLACH  COURT. 

Finally  the  Baroness  decided  that  it  was  absolutely 
necessary  for  herself  as  well  as  for  Stella  that  the 
cold  season  of  the  year  should  be  passed  in  Paris, 
for  herself  that  she  might  have  access  to  much 
information  needed  for  the  completion  of  her 
'  work,'  for  Stella  that  a  final  polish  might  be 
given  to  her  singing  and  that  she  might  be  defi- 
nitively prepared  for  the  stage. 

Every  one  who  has  ever  had  anything  to  do 
with  Lina  Meineck  knows  that  if  she  once  takes 
any  scheme  into  her  head  it  is  sure  to  be  carried 
out:  therefore,  having  made  up  her  mind  to  go  to 
Paris,  she  will  go,  although  no  one  among  all  her 
relatives  has  an  idea  of  where  the  requisite  funds 
are  to  come  from. 

It  does  not  occur  to  any  one  that  she  could  lay 
hands  upon  the  small  fortune  belonging  to  Stella, 
who  has  lately  been  declared  of  age. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

ZALOW. 


IT  is  a  mild  autumn  afternoon;  Stella,  just  re- 
turned from  a  visit  to  her  sister,  who  has  lately 
been  blessed  by  the  arrival  of  a  little  daughter, 
has  taken  a  seat  with  some  trifling  piece  of  work 


ZALOW.  167 

in  her  mother's  study  to  tell  her  about  the  pretty 
child  and  Franzi's  household,  but  at  her  first  word 
her  mother  calls  out  to  her  from  her  writing- 
table,— 

"  Not  now, — not  now,  I  beg;  do  not  disturb  me." 

And  the  girl,  silenced  and  mortified,  bends  over 
the  tiny  shirt  which  she  has  begun  to  crochet  for 
her  little  niece,  and  keeps  all  that  she  had  hoped 
to  tell  to  herself. 

The  autumn  sun  shines  in  at  the  window,  and  its 
crimson  light  gleams  upon  a  large  tin  box  standing 
on  the  floor  in  a  corner,  the  box  in  which  the  de- 
ceased colonel  had  kept  all  the  letters  he  ever  re- 
ceived from  his  wife.  Tied  up  with  ribbon,  and 
methodically  arranged  according  to  their  dates, 
they  are  packed  away  here  just  as  they  were  sent 
to  his  wife  from  his  old  quarters  at  Enns.  She  has 
never  looked  at  them,  has  not  even  taken  the 
trouble  to  destroy  them,  but  has  simply  pushed 
them  aside  as  useless  rubbish. 

Stella  had  rummaged  among  them,  with  inde- 
scribable sensations  in  deciphering  these  yellow 
documents  with  their  faint  odour  of  lavender  and 
decay,  for  here  were  letters  full  of  ardour  and  pas- 
sion, letters  in  which  Lina  Meineck  wrote  to  her 
husband,  for  instance,  when  he  was  away  during 
the  Schleswig  campaign, — 

"  The  weather  is  fine  to-day,  and  every  one 
is  praising  the  lovely  spring;  but  it  is  always 


168  ERLACH  COURT. 

winter  for  me  in  your  absence;  with  you  away 
my  thermometer  always  stands  at  ten  degrees  below 
zero!" 

With  a  shudder  Stella  put  back  these  relics  of 
a  dead  love  in  their  little  coffin.  It  was  as  if  she 
had  heard  a  corpse  speak. 

Since  then  she  has  often  wished  to  burn  the 
letters,  out  of  affectionate  reverence  for  the  dead 
who  held  them  sacred,  but  she  has  never  sum- 
moned up  sufficient  courage  to  ask  her  mother's 
permission. 

The  little  shirt  is  finished;  with  a  sigh  Stella 
folds  it  together,  and  is  just  wondering  what  she 
shall  do  next  to  occupy  the  rest  of  the  afternoon, 
when  the  Baroness  says, — 

"  Have  you  nothing  to  do,  Stella  ?" 

"  No,  mamma." 

"  "Well,  then,  you  can  run  over  to  Schwarz's  and 
buy  me  a  couple  of  quires  of  paper ;  my  supply  is 
exhausted,  and  I  will,  meanwhile,  have  tea  brought 
up." 

Donning  her  hat  and  gloves,  Stella  sets  forth. 
Herr  Schwarz  is  the  only  shopkeeper  in  the  village, 
and  his  shop  contains  a  more  heterogeneous  collec- 
tion of  articles  than  the  biggest  shop  in  Paris. 
He  often  boasts  that  he  has  everything  for  sale, 
from  poison  for  rats,  and  dynamite  bombs,  to 
paper  collars  and  scented  soap.  His  shop  is  at  the 
other  end  of  the  village  from  the  mill,  and  to 


ZALOW.  169 

reach  it  Stella  must  pass  the  most  ornate  of  the 
villas. 

Most  of  the  summer  residents  have  left  Zalow; 
only  a  few  special  enthusiasts  for  country  air  have 
been  induced  by  the  exceptionally  fine  autumn 
weather  to  prolong  their  stay.  In  the  garden  of 
the  tailor  who  built  himself  a  hunting-lodge  in  the 
style  of  Francis  the  First  a  group  of  people  are 
disputing  around  a  croquet-hoop  in  the  centre  of  a 
very  small  lawn,  and  in  the  Girofle  Villa  some  one 
is  practising  Schumann's  Etudes  symphoniques' 
with  frantic  ardour.  Stella  smiles ;  the  last  sound 
that  fell  upon  her  ears  before  she  went  to  Erlach 
Court  with  her  mother  was  the  '  Etudes  sympho- 
niques,' the  first  that  greeted  her  upon  her  return 
in  the  middle  of  August  was  the  '  Etudes  sympho- 
niques.' She  knows  precisely  who  is  so  persist- 
ently given  over  to  these  rhapsodies, — an  odd  crea- 
ture, a  woman  named  Fuhrwesen,  who  has  been 
a  teacher  of  the  piano  for  some  years  in  Russia, 
and  who,  now  over  forty,  still  hopes  for  a  career 
as  an  artist. 

Stella's  little  commission  is  soon  attended  to. 
As  she  hands  her  mother  the  paper  on  her  return, 
their  only  servant,  a  barefooted  girl  from  the  village, 
with  a  red-and-black  checked  kerchief  tied  about 
her  head,  brings  the  tea  into  the  room. 

"  A  letter  has  come  for  you,"  the  Baroness  says 
to  her  daughter, — "  a  letter  from  Gra'tz.  I  do  not 
H  15 


170  ERLACH  COURT. 

know  the  hand.  Who  can  he  writing  to  you  from 
Gratz  ?  Where  did  I  put  it  ?" 

And  while  her  mother  is  rummaging  among  her 
papers  for  the  letter,  Stella  repeats,  with  a  throb- 
bing heart,  "From  Gratz.  Who  can  be  writing 
to  me  from  Gratz?"  and  she  covertly  kisses  the 
four-leaved  clover  on  her  bracelet  which  is  to  bring 
her  good  fortune,  and  proceeds  instantly  to  build 
a  charming  castle  in  the  air. 

Her  uncle  has  told  her  of  Edgar's  loss  of  property 
and  his  consequent  inability  to  think  of  marriage 
at  present.  Perhaps  Uncle  Jack  told  her  this  to 
comfort  her.  That  Edgar  loves  her  she  has,  with 
the  unerring  instinct  of  total  inexperience  of  the 
world,  read,  not  once,  but  hundreds  of  times,  in  hi  a 
eyes,  and  consequently  she  has  spent  many  a  loug 
autumn  evening  in  wondering  whether  he  is  look- 
ing for  a  position — some  lucrative  employment — 
to  enable  him  to  marry.  He  is  not  lacking  i;i  at- 
tainments ;  he  could  work  if  he  would.  "  And  he 
will  for  my  sake,"  the  heart  of  this  foolish,  fan- 
tastic young  person  exults  in  thinking. 

From  day  to  day  she  has  been  hoping  that  he 
would  send  her — perhaps  through  Jack  or  Katrine 
— some  message,  hitherto  in  vain.  But  now  at  last 
he  has  written  himself;  for  from  whom  el.-e  could 
this  letter  from  Gratz  be?  She  knew  no  human 
being  there  save  himself. 

"  Here  is  the  letter,"  her  mother  says,  at  labt- 


ZALOW.  171 

Stella  opens  it  hastily,  and  starts. 

"Whom  is  it  from?"  asks  the  Baroness.  She 
uses  the  hour  for  afternoon  tea  to  rest  from  her 
literary  labours ;  with  her  feet  upon  the  round  of 
a  chair  in  front  of  her,  a  volume  of  Buckle  in  her 
lap,  a  pile  of  books  beside  her,  a  number  of  the 
1  Revue  des  deux  Mondes'  in  her  left  hand,  and  her 
teacup  in  her  right,  she  partakes  alternately  of  the 
refreshing  beverage  and  of  an  article  upon  Henry 
the  Eighth.  "  Whom  is  the  letter  from  ?"  she  asks, 
absently,  laying  her  cup  aside  to  take  up  a  volume 
of  Froude. 

"  From  Stasy,"  Stella  replies. 

"  Ah !  what  does  she  want  ?" 

"  She  asks  me  to  send  her  from  Rumberger's,  in 
Prague,  three  hundred  napkins  or  so,  upon  appro- 
bation, that  she  may  oblige  some  friend  of  hers 
whom  I  do  not  know,  and  for  whom  I  do  not  care." 

"  Positively  insolent !"  remarks  the  Baroness. 
"  And  does  she  say  nothing  else  ?" 

"  Nothing  of  any  consequence,"  says  Stella,  read- 
ing on  and  suddenly  changing  colour. 

"  Ah !"  The  Baroness  marks  the  Revue  with 
her  pencil.  When  she  looks  up  again,  Stella  has 
left  the  room.  Without  wasting  another  thought 
upon  her,  the  student  goes  on  with  her  reading. 

Stella,  meanwhile,  is  lying  on  the  bed  in  her 
little  room,  into  which  the  moon  shines  marking 
the  floor  with  the  outlines  of  the  window-panes. 


172  ERLACH  COURT. 

Her  face  is  buried  among  the  pillows,  and  she  is 
crying  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

4  Nothing  of  any  consequence' !  True  enough, 
of  no  consequence  for  the  Baroness,  that  second 
sheet  of  Stasy's,  but  for  Stella  of  great,  of  im- 
mense consequence. 

"  Guess  whom  I  encountered  lately  at  Stein- 
bach?"  writes  the  Gurlichingen.  "  Edgar  Rohritz. 
Of  course  we  talked  of  our  dear  Erlach  Court,  and 
consequently  of  you.  He  spoke  very  kindly  of 
you,  only  regretting  that  in  consequence  of  your 
odd  education,  or  of  a  certain  exaggeration  of  tem- 
perament, you  lacked  reserve,  tenue,  a  defect  which 
might  be  unfortunate  for  you  in  life.  Of  course 
I  defended  you.  They  say  everywhere  that  he  is 
betrothed  to  Emmy  Strahlenheim. 

"Have  you  heard  the  news, — the  very  latest? 
Rohritz  is  a  sly  fellow  indeed.  All  that  loss  of 
property  of  which  we  heard  so  much  was  only  a 
fraud.  The  report  originated  in  some  trifling  de- 
preciation of  certain  bank-stock.  He  did  not  con- 
tradict the  report,  allowing  himself  to  be  thought 
impoverished  that  he  might  escape  the  persecu- 
tions of  the  mothers  and  daughters  of  Gratz.  Max 
Steinbach  let  out  the  secret  a  while  ago.  Is  it 

O 

not  the  best  joke  in  the  world  ?  I  am  glad  no 
one  can  accuse  me  of  ever  making  the  slightest 
advances  to  him." 


WINTER.  173 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

WINTER. 

THE  death-struggle  of  the  year  is  over, — past  are 
the  treacherous  gleams  of  sunlight  among  falling 
leaves  and  smiling  flowers, — past,  past !  Cold  and 
grave  like  a  hired  executioner,  mute  and  secret 
like  a  midnight  assassin,  the  first  hard  frost  has 
fallen  upon  the  earth  in  the  previous  night  and 
completed  its  great  work  of  destruction. 

It  is  All  Souls' ;  the  Meinecks  leave  for  Paris  in 
the  evening,  and  in  the  morning  Stella  goes  to 
mass  in  the  little  church  on  the  mountain-side  at 
the  foot  of  which  is  the  churchyard, — the  church- 
yard in  which  the  colonel  lies  buried.  The  flames 
of  the  thick  wax  candles  on  the  altar,  the  flames 
of  the  candles  thick  and  thin  lighted  everywhere 
in  memory  of  the  dead,  flicker  dull  and  red  in  the 
gray  daylight. 

In  one  of  the  carved  seats  beside  the  altar  sits 
the  priest's  sister,  her  prayer-book  bound  in  red 
velvet,  and  a  large  yellow  rose  in  her  new  winter 
hat.  She  nods  kindly  to  Stella  when  she  enters, 
and  gathers  her  skirts  aside  to  make  room  for  her. 

In  the  body  of  the  long  narrow  church  are 
cowering  on  the  benches  all  kinds  of  dilapidated 

15* 


174  ERLACH  COURT. 

figures,  men  and  women,  almost  all  old,  frail,  and 
crippled, — those  able  to  work  have  no  time  to 
pray.  It  is  very  cold;  their  breath  comes  as 
vapour  from  their  lips ;  the  outlines  of  their  blue 
wrinkled  faces  show  vaguely  behind  clouds  of 
yellowish-gray  smoke ;  the  odour  of  damp  stone 
and  damp  clothes  mingles  with  the  smell  of  incense 
and  wax;  the  sputter  of  the  candles,  the  dripping 
of  the  wax,  the  rattle  of  beads,  mingle  with  the 
monotonous  chant  of  the  priest  at  the  altar. 

When  mass  is  over,  and  she  has  taken  leave 
of  the  priest's  kindly  sister,  Stella  goes  out  into 
the  churchyard, — a  miserable  place,  with  neglected 
graves,  scarcely  elevated  in  mounds  above  the 
ground,  with  iron  crosses  upon  which  rust  has 
eaten  away  the  inscriptions,  or  wooden  ones  which 
the  wind  has  blown  down  to  lie  rotting  on  the 
ground.  The  colonel's  grave  is  beneath  a  weep- 
ing-willow at  the  extreme  end  of  the  churchyard, 
whence  one  can  look  directly  down  upon  the  broad 
shining  stream.  Tended  like  a  garden-bed  by 
Stella,  cherished  as  the  very  apple  of  her  eye,  it 
yet  looks  dreary  enough  to-day :  the  leaves  are 
hanging  black  and  withered  from  the  stalks  of  the 
chrysanthemums  which  Stella  planted  with  her  own 
hands  only  a  few  weeks  ago,  their  pretty  flowers, 
which  but  yesterday  stood  forth  red  and  yellow 
against  the  blue  of  the  sky,  now  colourless  and  faded 
beyond  recognition.  A  wreath  of  fresh  flowers 


WINTER.  175 

lies  among  the  chrysanthemums,  but  these  too  are 
,  beginning  to  fade.    Stella  kneels  down  on  the  gray 
rimy  grass  beside  the  grave  and  kisses   fervently 
the  hard  frozen  ground. 

"  Adieu,  papa,"  she  murmurs,  and  then  adds, 
"  But  why  say  adieu  to  you  ?  You  are  always  with 
me  everywhere  I  go  ;  you  are  beside  me,  a  loving 
guardian  angel  seeking  for  happiness  for  me.  Do 
not  grieve  too  much  that  you  cannot  find  it :  open 
your  arms  and  take  me  to  you ;  I  am  all  ready." 

Then  the  mill  is  closed ;  the  keys  are  left  with 
the  pastor,  and  the  Meinecks  go  to  Prague,  which 
on  the  same  evening  they  leave  by  the  train  for  the 
west.  As  far  as  Furth  they  are  alone,  but  when  they 
change  coupes  after  the  examination  of  their  lug- 
gage they  are  unable,  in  spite  of  bribing  the  officials, 
to  exclude  strangers.  At  the  last  moment,  just  as 
the  train  is  about  to  start,  a  lady  with  two  hand- 
bags, a  travelling-case,  a  shawl-strap,  and  a  band- 
box steps  into  their  compartment  and  hopes  she 
does  not  disturb  them.  Much  vexed,  Stella  scans 
the  lady,  who  wears  a  water-proof  adorned  with  as 
many  tassels  as  bedeck  the  trappings  of  an  Anda- 
lusian  mule,  and  with  a  red  pompon  in  her  hat, 
fastened  in  its  place  with  a  bird's  claw  four  inches 
long.  Stella  instantly  recognizes  her  as  Fraulein 
Bertha  Fuhrwesen,  the  same  pianist  who  has  been 
spending  her  holidays  upon  the  '  Etudes  sympho- 


176  ERLACH  COURT. 

niques;'  she  recognizes  Stella  at  the  same  moment, 
and,  although  until  now  she  never  has  exchanged  . 
four  words  with  her,  hails  her  as  an  old  acquaint- 
ance and  enters  into  conversation ;  that  is,  without 
waiting  for  replies  from  the  young  girl  she  imparts 
to  her  the  story  of  her  entire  life. 

In  the  course  of  her  experience  as  teacher  of 
the  piano  in  Russia,  of  which  mention  has  already 
been  made,  she  has  learned  much  of  the  rude 
nature  of  Russian  social  life  and  the  amiability 
of  young  Russian  princes;  at  present  she  is  on 
her  way  to  Paris,  whence  she  is  to  make  a  tour 
with  an  impresario  through  South  America  and 
Australia,  by  the  way  of  Uruguay  and  Tasmania. 
Apart  from  the  artistic  laurels  she  expects  to  win, 
she  anticipates  furthering  greatly  the  advance  of 
civilization  among  the  savage  aborigines  by  her 
musical  efforts. 

She  asks  Stella  several  times  why  she  is  so  silent, 
and  when  the  girl  excuses  herself  on  the  plea  of 
a  headache  she  says  she  had  better  eat  something, 
and  produces  from  her  travelling-case,  embroidered 
with  red  and  white  roses,  and  from  between  a 
flannel  dressing-sacque  and  various  toilet  articles,  a 
bulky  brown  package  containing  the  remains  of  a 
cold  capon. 

Stella  thanks  her,  and  declines  the  tempting  deli- 
cacy, saying  that  she  will  try  to  sleep. 

Fraulein  Fuhnvesen  of  course  attributes  Stella's 


WINTER.  177 

reserve  to  the  notorious  arrogance  of  the  Meinecks, 
who  will  have  nothing  to  say  to  a  poor  pianist, 
and,  mortally  offended,  she  likewise  takes  refuge 
in  silence 

Stella  dozes. 

The  conductor  opens  the  door  to  tell  the  ladies 
that  the  next  station  is  Nuremberg,  whereupon  the 
artiste  takes  a  comb  and  a  tangled  braid  of  false 
hair  out  of  her  travelling-case  and  begins  to  dress 
her  hair. 

The  train  puffs  and  whizzes  through  the  grayish 
light  of  the  late  autumn  morning  and  stops  with  a 
shrill  whistle  at  Nuremberg. 

Stella  and  her  mother  through  the  pillars  of  the 
railway-station  catch  a  glimpse,  among  the  pictu- 
resque gables  and  roofs  of  the  old  town,  of  ugly  new 
houses  pretentious  in  style,  looking  as  if  built  of 
pasteboard ;  they  partake  of  a  miserable  breakfast, 
buy  a  package  of  gingerbread  and  a  volume  of 
Tauchnitz,  get  into  another  train,  and  are  whirled 
away,  on — on — through  yellow  and  brown  harvest- 
fields,  through  small  bristling  forests  of  pines  and 
barren  meadows,  past  villages,  churchyards,  and 
little  towns  that  look  positively  dead.  Late  in  the 
afternoon  the  Rhine  comes  in  sight:  gray,  shrouded 
in  mist,  not  at  all  like  itself,  without  sunshine, 
without  merriment,  without  Englishmen,  almost 
without  steamers,  it  grumbles  and  groans  as  if 
vexed  by  some  evil,  melancholy  dream,  while  a 


178  ERLACH  COURT. 

thousand  sad  sighs  tremble  through  the  red-and- 
yellow  vineyards  on  its  shores, — the  shores  where 
folly  grows. 

Away — on — on !  More  dead  towns,  with  dreamy 
old  names  that  fall  upon  the  ear  like  echoes  of  an- 
cient legends.  Everything  is  drowsy ;  gray  shadows 
cover  the  earth;  the  night  falls;  green  and  red 
lanterns  gleam  through  the  darkness. 

Cologne ! 

Cologne,  where  one  can  sup,  and  dress,  and  at 
all  events  see  the  cathedral  in  the  dark. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

SOPHIE   OBLONSKY. 

STELLA  and  her  mother  have  finished  their  sup- 
per. The  Baroness,  who  has  exhausted  her  entire 
stock  of  literary  food  provided  for  the  journey, 
is  at  the  book-stall,  looking  for  more  reading- 
matter  ;  she  examines  the  counterfeit  presentments 
on  exhibition  there  of  the  great  German  heroes, 
the  Emperor  "Wilhelm,  Bismarck,  and  Yon  Moltke, 
among  which  distinguished  personages  chance  has 
slipped  in  the  portrait  of  Mademoiselle  Zampa. 
Suddenly,  under  a  pile  of  books  that  seem  to 
have  been  pushed  out  of  the  way,  she  discovers 


SOPHIE   OBLONSKT.  179 

a  green  pamphlet  which  she  instantly  recognizes  as 
a  child  of  her  own,  an  essay  entitled  '  Is  Woman 
to  be  Independent?'  Of  course  she  buys  the 
book,  and,  betaking  herself  to  the  small  'ladies' 
parlour'  adjoining  the  spacious  waiting-room,  takes 
a  seat  opposite  Stella,  and,  her  eyes  sparkling  with 
enthusiasm,  is  soon  absorbed  in  the  study  of  her 
work. 

Meanwhile,  Stella  has  vainly  tried  to  become 
interested  in  the  English  novel  purchased  at  Nurem- 
berg ;  she  leaves  the  lovers,  after  their  twenty- 
second  reconciliation,  beneath  a  blossoming  haw- 
thorn, and,  closing  the  book  with  a  slight  yawn, 
sits  up  and  looks  about  her.  At  the  other  end 
of  the  room,  as  far  as  possible  from  Stella,  sits 
the  pianist,  writing  a  letter:  from  time  to  time 
she  looks  up  to  bestow  upon  Stella  a  hostile  glance. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  same  table  two  ladies 
are  engaged  in  partaking  of  the  best  supper  that 
the  restaurant  of  the  railway-hotel  can  afford, — a 
supper  with  foie  gras,  mayonnaise  of  lobster,  and 
a  bottle  of  champagne.  One  of  them,  with  the 
figure  and  face  of  a  Juno,  her  costly  furs  falling 
gracefully  from  her  full  shoulders,  is  so  perfumed 
that  even  the  atmosphere  about  Stella  reeks  with 
peau  d'Espagne.  Eyebrows,  lips — her  entire  face 
is  painted ;  and  yet  she  does  not  look  in  the  least 
like  a  travelling  prima  donna. 

"  Can  that  be  the  Princess  Oblonskv  ?"  Stella 


180  ERLACH  COURT. 

says  to  herself,  with  a  start.  "  No  doubt  of  it :  it 
is." 

And  there  beside  the  Princess,  on  Stella's  side  of 
the  table,  but  with  her  back  to  her, — who  is  that  ? 

Jack  Leskjewitsch  always  used  to  declare  that 
Stasy's  shoulders  were  shaped  like  a  champagne- 
bottle.  Stella  wonders  whether  anywhere  in  the 
world  can  be  found  a  pair  of  more  sloping  shoulders 
than  those  which  that  fur-trimmed  circular  fails  to 
conceal.  Both  ladies  devote  their  entire  attention 
for  a  time  to  their  supper;  at  last  the  Princess 
pushes  away  her  plate  with  a  certain  impatience, 
and  with  an  odd  smile  says,  "  Where  did  you  first 

«/      7  *J 

know  him  ?" 

"  Whom  ?"'  asks  the  other. 

It  is  Stasy,  of  course ;  there  maybe  another  woman 
in  the  world  with  those  same  sloping  shoulders,  but 
there  can  be  none  with  such  a  thin,  affected  voice. 

"  Why,  him,  my  chevalier  sans  peur  et  sans  re- 
proche"  says  the  Princess. 

"  Edgar  ?  Oh,  I  spent  a  long  time  in  the  same 
house  with  him  last  summer,"  Stasy  declares. 
"  He  is  still  one  of  the  most  interesting  men  I 
have  ever  met.  Such  a  profile !  such  eyes !  and 
so  attractive  in  manner!" 

The  ladies  speak  French,  the  Princess  with  per- 
fect fluency  but  a  rather  hard  accent,  Stasy  some- 
what stumblingly. 

"  Strange !"  the  Oblonsky  murmurs. 


SOPHIE   OBLONSKY.  Jgl 

"  What  is  strange  ?"  asks  Stasy. 

"  Why,  that  you  have  seen  him,"  the  Princess 
replies ;  "  that  he  is  yet  alive ;  in  fact,  that  he  ever 
did  live,  and  that  we  loved  each  other.  I  was 
wont  for  so  many  years  to  regard  that  episode  at 
Baden-Baden  as  a  dream  that  at  last  I  forgot  that 
the  dream  had  any  connection  with  reality."  The 
words  fall  from  the  beautiful  woman's  lips  slowly, 
softly,  with  veiled  richness  and  intense  melancholy. 
After  a  pause  she  goes  on :  "I  seem  to  have 
read  there  in  Baden-Baden  a  romance  which  en- 
thralled my  entire  being !  It  was  on  a  lovely  sum- 
mer day,  and  the  roses  were  in  bloom  all  about  me, 
while  delicious  music  in  the  distance  fell  dreamily 
and  softly  on  my  ear,  and  tfie  fragrance  of  roses 
and  the  charm  of  melody  mingled  with  the  poem  I 
was  reading.  Suddenly,  and  before  I  had  read  to 
the  end,  the  romance  slipped  from  my  hands,  and 
since  then  I  have  sought  it  in  vain!  But  it  still 
seems  to  me  more  charming  than  all  the  romances 
in  the  world ;  and  I  cannot  cease  from  searching  for 
it,  that  I  may  read  the  last  chapter."  Then,  sud- 
denly changing  her  tone,  she  shrugs  her  shoulders 
and  says, "  Who  can  tell  what  disappointment  awaits 
me  ? — how  Edgar  may  have  changed  ?  How  does 
he  seem  ?  Is  he  gay,  contented  with  his  lot  ?" 

"  No,  Sonja,  that  he  is  not,"  Stasy  assures  her, 
sentimentally.  "  To  be  sure,  he  is  too  proud  to 
parade  his  grief;  in  society  he  bears  himself  coldly, 

16 


182  ERLACH  COURT. 

indifferently ;  but  there  is  an  inexpressible  melan- 
choly in  his  look.  Oh,  he  has  not  forgotten !" 

Stella's  eyes  flash  angrily. 

"She  lies!"  the  heart  in  her  breast  cries  out; 
"  she  lies !" 

Meanwhile,  the  friends  clasp  each  other's  hands 
sympathetically. 

"  He  never  knew  how  I  suffered,"  the  Princess 
sighs.  "  Does  he  suppose  that  I  accepted  Oblon- 
sky's  hand  with  any  thought  of  self?  No, — a 
thousand  times  no !  I  determined  to  free  Edgar 
from  the  martyrdom  he  was  enduring  from  his 
family  because  of  me.  I  took  upon  myself  the  bur- 
den of  a  joyless,  loveless  marriage,  I  had  myself 
nailed  to  the  cross,  for  his  sake  !" 

"  She  lies !"  Stella's  heart  cries  out  again ;  "  she 
lies !" 

But  Stasy  sighs,  "  I  always  understood  you, 
Sonja."  After  a  pause  she  adds,  "  You  know,  I 
suppose,  that  he  grew  gray  immediately  after  that 
sad  affair, — after  your  marriage, — almost  in  a  single 
night  ?" 

"  Gray !"  murmurs  the  Princess ;  "  gray !  And 
he  had  such  beautiful  dark-brown  hair.  He  must 
have  heard  much  evil  of  me ;  perhaps  he  believed 
it :  it  pleases  men  to  think  evil  of  the  women  who 
have  caused  them  suffering.  Well,  you  know  how 
innocent  were  all  the  little  flirtations  with  which  I 
tried  in  vain  to  fill  the  dreary  vacuum  of  my  ex- 


SOPHIE  OBLONSKY.  183 

istence,  from  the  artists  whom  I  patronized,  to  Ziuo 
Capito,  with  whom  I  trifled.  If  only  some  one 
could  explain  it  all  to  him ! — or  if" — the  Princess's 
eyes  gleam  with  conscious  power, — "if  I  could 
only  meet  him  myself,  then " 

"Then  what?"  says  Stasy,  threatening  her  friend 
archly  with  her  forefinger;  "  then  you  would  turn 
his  head  again,  only  to  leave  him  to  drag  out  a  still 
drearier  existence  than  before." 

"You  are  mistaken,"  the  Princess  whispers. 
"  There  is  many  a  strain  of  music  that  beginning 
in  a  minor  key  changes  to  major  only  to  close 
softly  and  sweetly  in  minor  tones.  Anastasia,  my 
first  marriage  was  a  tomb  in  which  I  was  buried 
alive " 

*  And  would  you  be  buried  alive  for  the  second 
time  ?"  Stasy  asks. 

"No;  I  long  for  a  resurrection." 

A  cold  shiver  of  dread  thrills  Stella  from  head 
to  foot.  The  Baroness  looks  up  from  her  pamphlet 
and  exclaims,  "  I  really  must  read  you  this,  Stella. 
I  do  not  understand  how  this  brochure  did  not 
attract  more  notice.  To  be  sure,  when  one  lives 
so  entirely  withdrawn  from  all  intercourse  with  the 
literary  world,  and  has  no  connection  at  all  with 
the  journals,  one  may  expect " 

Stasy  turns  around.  "  My  dear  Baroness !"  she 
exclaims,  with  effusion.  "And  you  too,  Stella! 
What  a  delightful  surprise !  I  must  introduce 


184  ERLACH  COURT. 

you:  Baroness  Meiueck  and  her  daughter, — Prin- 
cess Oblonsky." 

With  the  extreme  graciousness  which  all  great 
ladies  whose  social  position  is  partly  compromised 
testify  towards  their  thoroughly  respectable  sisters, 
the  Princess  rises  and  offers  her  hand  to  both  Stella 
and  her  mother.  The  Baroness  smiles  absently ; 
Stella  does  not  smile,  and  barely  touches  with  her 
finger-tips  the  hand  extended  to  her.  Meanwhile, 
Stasy  has  recognized  in  Fraulein  Fuhrwesen  an 
old  acquaintance  from  Zalow. 

"  Good-day,  Fraulein  Bertha !"— "  Fraulein  Ber- 
tha Fuhrwesen,  a  very  fine  pianist," — to  the  Prin- 
cess; then  to  the  Meinecks,  "You  are  already 
acquainted  with  her."  And  while  the  Princess  talks 
with  much  condescension  to  the  pianist  of  her 
adoration  for  music,  Stasy  whispers  to  Stella, 
"  Don't  be  so  stiff  towards  Sonja :  you  might  al- 
most be  supposed  to  be  jealous  of  her." 

"  Ridiculous !"  Stella  says  angrily  through  her 
set  teeth,  and  blushing  to  the  roots  of  her  hair. 

Stasy  taps  her  on  the  cheek  with  her  forefinger, 
with  a  pitying  glance  that  takes  in  her  entire 
person,  from  her  delicate — almost  too  delicate — 
pale  face  to  her  shabby  travelling-dress,  the  iden- 
tical brown  army-cloak  which  she  had  worn  on 
the  journey  to  Venice  three  years  before,  and 
rejoins, — 

"  Ridiculous  indeed — most  ridiculous — to  dream 


SOPHIE   OBLONSKY.  135 

of  rivalling  Sonja.    Wherever  she  appears,  we  ordi- 
nary women  are  nowhere." 

"  Verviers — Paris — Brussels !"  the  porter  shouts 
into  the  room. 

All  rise,  and  pick  up  plaids  and  travelling-bags; 
the  porters  hurry  in ;  a  lanky  footman  and  a  sleepy- 
looking  maid  wait  upon  the  Princess  Oblonsky, 
who  nods  graciously  as  they  all  crowd  out  upon  the 
railway-platform.  The  Meinecks  enter  a  coupe 
where  an  American  whose  trousers  are  too  short, 
and  his  wife  whose  hat  is  too  large,  have  already 
taken  their  seats. m  The  pianist  looks  in  at  the  door, 
but  as  soon  as  she  perceives  Stella  starts  back  with 
horror  in  her  face. 

"  I  seem  to  have  made  an  enemy  of  that  woman," 
Stella  thinks,  negligently.  What  does  it  matter  to 
her?  Poor  Stella!  Could  she  "but  look  into  the 
future  ! 

The  train  starts ;  while  the  Baroness,  neglectful 
of  the  simplest  precautions  with  regard  to  her  eyes, 
continues  to  peruse  her  masterpiece  by  the  yellow 
light  of  the  coupe  lamp,  the  American  goes  to 
sleep,  hat  and  all,  upon  her  companion's  shoulder, 
and  Stella  sits  bolt  upright  in  the  cool  draught  of 
night  air  by  the  window,  repeating  to  herself  alter- 
nately, "  I  long  for  a  resurrection !"  and  "  Wherever 
Sonja  appears,  we  ordinary  women  are  nowhere !" 

She,  then,  is  the  enchantress  who  has  ruined  the 

happiness  of  his  life, — she  the She  is  indeed 

16* 


186  ERLACH  COURT. 

beautiful ;  but  how  hollow, — how  false  !  Every- 
thing about  her — soul,  heart,  and  all — is  painted, 
like  her  face.  Could  he  possibly  be  her  dupe  a 
second  time?  Suddenly  the  girl  feels  the  blood 
rush  to  her  cheeks. 

"  What  affair  is  it  of  mine  ?  What  do  I  care  ?" 
she  asks  herself,  angrily.  "  He  too  is  false,  vain, 
and  heartless;  he  too  can  act  a  part." 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

PARIS. 

STELLA  has  scarcely  closed  her  eyes,  when  the 
train  reaches  Paris,  about  six  o'clock.  The  morn- 
ing is  cold  and  damp,  the  usual  darkness  of  the 
-time  of  day  disagreeably  enhanced  by  the  white 
gloom  of  an  autumn  fog, — a  gloom  which  the 
street-lamps  are  powerless  to  counteract,  and  in 
which  they  show  like  lustreless  red  specks. 

Through  this  depressing  white  gloom,  Stella  and 
her  mother  are  driven  in  a  rattling  little  omnibus, 
with  a  couple  of  other  travellers,  through  a  Paris  as 
silent  as  the  grave,  to  the  Hotel  Bedford,  Rue  Pas- 
quier.  An  Englishwoman  at  Nice  once  recom- 
mended it  to  the  Baroness  as  that  wonder  of  wonders, 
a  first-class  hotel  with  second-class  prices,  and  it  is 
under  English  patronage.  English  lords  and  ladies 


PARIS.  187 

now  and  then  occupy  the  first  story,  and  conse- 
quently the  garret-rooms  are  continually  inhabited 
by  impoverished  but  highly  distinguished  scions 
of  English  "  county  families."  In  the  reading- 
room,  between  '  Burke's  Peerage'  and  Lodge's 
'  Vicissitudes  of  Families'  is  placed  an  album  con- 
taining the  photographs  of  two  peeresses.  The 
clientele  is  as  aristocratic  as  it  is  economical :  each 
despises  all  the  rest,  and  one  and  all  dispute  the 
weekly  bills.  Stella  and  her  mother  are  by  no 
means  enchanted  with  this  hotel,  and  they  sally 
forth  as  soon  as  they  are  somewhat  rested,  in 
search  of  furnished  lodgings. 

But  the  funds  are  scanty :  their  expenses  ought  to 
be  paid  out  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  francs  a  month ! 

The  first  day  passes,  and  our  Austrians  have  as 
yet  found  nothing  suitable.  The  cheapest  lodgings 
are  confined  and  dark,  and  smell,  as  the  ladies  ex- 
press it,  of  English  people ;  that  is,  of  a  mixture 
of  camphor,  patchouli,  and  old  nut-shells.  The 
bedrooms  in  these  cheap  lodgings  consist  of  a  sort 
of  windowless  closets,  entirely  dependent  for  ven- 
tilation upon  a  door  into  the  drawing-room  which 
can  be  left  open  at  night. 

Meanwhile,  the  living  at  the  Bedford  is  dear. 
The  Baroness  arrives  at  the  conclusion  that  private 
quarters  at  three  hundred  francs  a  month  would  be 
more  economical,  and  finally  decides  to  spend  this 
sum  upon  her  winter  residence. 


188  ERLACH  COURT. 

For  three  hundred  francs  very  much  better  lodg- 
ings are  to  be  had ;  the  bedrooms  have  windows, 
but  there  are  still  all  kinds  of  discomforts  to  be 
endured,  the  worst  of  which  consists  perhaps  in 
the  fact  that  none  of  the  proprietors  of  these  rooms, 
which  are  mostly  intended  for  bachelors,  is  willing 
to  undertake  to  provide  food  for  the  two  ladies. 

At  last  in  the  Rue  de  Leze  an  appartement  is  found 
which  answers  their  really  moderate  requirements ; 
but  just  at  the  last  moment  the  Baroness  discovers 
that  the  concierge  is  a  very  suspicious-looking  in- 
dividual, and  remembers  that  the  previous  year  a 
horrible  murder  was  committed  in  the  Rue  de  Leze; 
wherefore  negotiations  are  at  once  broken  off. 

A  pretty  appartement  in  the  Rue  de  1' Arcade 
pleases  Stella  particularly,  perhaps  because  the 
drawing-room  is  furnished  with  buhl  cabinets. 
The  Baroness  is  just  about  to  close  with  the  con- 
cierge, who  does  the  honours  of  the  place, — there 
is  merely  a  question  of  five  francs  to  be  settled, — 
when  with  a  suspicious  sniff  she  remarks,  "  'Tis 
strange  how  strongly  the  atmosphere  of  this  room 
is  impregnated  with  musk !" 

Whereupon  the  concierge  explains  that  the  rooms 
have  lately  been  occupied  by  Mexican  gentlemen, 
who  shared  the  reprehensible  Southern  habit  of 
indulging  too  freely  in  perfumes ;  and  when  the 
Baroness  glances  doubtfully  at  a  dressing-table 
which  scarcely  presents  a  masculine  appearance, 


PARIS.  189 

and  which  boasts  a  sky-blue  pincushion  stuck  full  of 
different  kinds  of  pins,  he  hastens  to  add,  without 
waiting  to  be  questioned,  that  the  Mexican  gentle- 
men had  chiefly  occupied  themselves  in  collecting 
and  arranging  butterflies. 

"  Mexican  men  would  seem  to  have  long  fair  hair, 
mamma,"  Stella  here  interposes,  having  just  pulled 
a  golden  hair  at  least  a  yard  long  out  of  the  cro- 
chetted  antimacassar  of  a  low  chair. 

The  face  of  the  Baroness,  who  always  suspects 
French  immorality  everywhere,  turns  to  marble; 
tossing  her  head,  she  grasps  Stella  by  the  hand 
and  hurries  out  with  her,  passing  the  astounded 
concierge  without  so  much  as  deigning  to  bid  him 
good-bye. 

She  refuses  to  take  a  lodging  in  the  Rue  Pas- 
quier,  because  it  seems  to  her  '  too  reasonable ;' 
she  is  convinced  that  some  one  must  have  died 
of  cholera  in  a  certain  big  bed  with  red  curtains, 
else  the  rent  never  would  have  been  so  low. 

At  last,  after  a  four  days'  pilgrimage,  the  ladies 
find  what  answers  their  requirements  in  a  little 
hotel  called  'At  the  Three  Negroes,'  kept  by  a 
kindly,  light-hearted  Irishwoman. 

At  the  Baroness's  first  words,  "  We  are  looking 
for  lodgings  for  two  quiet,  respectable  ladies,"  she 
instantly  rejoins,  "  My  house  will  suit  you  exactly; 
the  quietest  house  in  all  Paris.  I  never  receive 
any — hm  ! — a  certain  kind  of  ladies,  and  never 


190  ERLACH  COURT. 

more  than  one  Deputy;  two  always  quarrel." 
"Whereupon  the  Irishwoman  and  the  Austrian  lady 
come  to  terms  immediately,  and  the  Meinecks 
move  into  the  second  story  of '  The  Three  Negroes' 
that  very  day,  the  Irishwoman  being  quite  ready 
also  to  provide  them  with  food.  The  price  for  a 
salon  and  two  bedrooms — with  very  large  windows, 
'tis  true,  as  Stella  observes — is  three  hundred  and 
twenty  francs  a  month. 

*          *  *  *  *  *  * 

After  the  lodgings  are  thus  fortunately  secured  the 
Baroness  sets  about  finding  a  singing-teacher  for 
Stella.  Always  decided  and  to  the  point,  she  goes 
directly  to  the  man  in  authority  at  the  Grand  Opera 
to  inquire  for  a  'first-class  Professor.'  Oddly 
enough,  it  appears  that  this  authority  has  no  time 
to  attend  to  matters  so  important.  Dismissed  with 
but  slight  encouragement,  the  Baroness  tries  her 
fortune  at  the  office  of  one  of  the  smaller  operas; 
but  since  she  presents  herself  here  with  her  daugh- 
ter without  introduction  of  any  kind,  the  official 
seated  behind  a  dusty  writing-table  has  no  time  to 
devote  to  her,  all  that  he  ljas  being  absorbed  in 
a  quarrel  with  two  ladies  who  have  just  applied  to 
him  for  the  ninth  time, — "  yes,"  he  exclaims,  with 
a  despairing  flourish  of  his  hands,  "  for  the  ninth 
time  this  month,  for  free  tickets!" 

Whilst  the  Baroness  and  Stella  linger  hesitatingly 
on  the  threshold,  a  slender,  sallow  young  man  with 


PARIS.  191 

sharply-cut  features,  and  with  a  picturesque  Astra- 
chan  collar  and  a  very  long  surtout,  enters  the  place 
by  an  opposite  door.  He  scans  Stella's  face  and 
figure  keenly,  and,  approaching  her,  asks  what  she 
desires.  The  Baroness  informs  him  of  their  busi- 
ness, whereupon  ensues  an  exchange  of  civilities 
and  mutual  introductions. 

The  gentleman  in  the  fur  collar  is  none  other 
than  the  famous  impresario  Morinski,  now  on  the 
lookout  for  a  new  Patti. 

With  a  pleasant  glance  towards  Stella,  he  asks 
who  has  been  the  young  lady's  teacher  hitherto. 

Of  whom  has  she  not  taken  lessons !  The  list  of 
her  teachers  embraces  Carelli  at  Naples,  Lamperti 
at  Milan,  Garcia  in  London,  and  Tosti  in  Rome. 

Here  Morinski  shakes  his  black  curly  head,  says, 
"  Too  many  cooks  spoil  the  broth,"  and  asks, "  Why 
did  you  not  stay  longer  with  one  teacher  ?" 

The  Baroness  takes  it  upon  herself  to  reply,  and 
explains  at  considerable  length  how  her  historical 
schemes  and  researches  have  hitherto  rendered  a 
wandering  life  for  herself  and  her  daughter  im- 
peratively necessary. 

Morinski,  who  seems  to  take  more  interest  in 
Stella's  fine  eyes  than  in  her  mother's  historical 
studies,  interrupts  the  elder  lady  with  some  rude- 
ness, and,  turning  to  Stella,  asks,  "  Do  you  intend 
to  go  upon  the  stage  ?" 

"  Yes,"  Stella  meekly  replies. 


192  ERLACH  COURT. 

"  Only  upon  condition  of  her  capacity  to  become 
a  star  of  the  first  magnitude  should  I  consent  to 
my  daughter's  going  upon  the  stage,"  the  Baroness 
declares,  in  her  magnificent  manner. 

"  It  is  a  little  difficult  to  prognosticate  with  cer- 
tainty in  such  a  case,"  Herr  Morinski  observes,  with 
an  odd  smile.  "  Hm !  hm !  You  may  sometimes 
see  a  brilliant  meteor  flash  across  the  skies,  larger 
apparently  than  any  of  the  stars ;  you  fix  your  eyes 
upon  it,  but  hardly  have  you  begun  to  admire 
so  exquisite  a  natural  phenomenon  when  it  has 
vanished.  Another  time  you  scarcely  perceive  a 
small  red  spark  lying  on  the  pavement,  but  before 
you  are  aware  of  it,  it  has  set  fire  to  half  the  town. 
Just  so  it  is  with  our  artistic  debuts." 

At  the  close  of  this  tirade,  which  Herr  Morinski 
has  enunciated  in  very  harsh  French  with  a  strong 
Jewish  accent,  he  turns  again  to  Stella  and  asks, 
""Will  you  sing  me  something?  It  would  interest 
me  very  much  to  hear  you." 

Stella's  heart  beats  fast.  How  many  other  singers 
have  had  to  engage  in  an  interminable  corre- 
spondence and  to  entreat  for  infinite  patronage 
before  gaining  admission  to  the  famous  Morinski 
and  inducing  him  to  listen  to  them,  while  he  has 
asked  her  to  sing,  unsolicited,  after  scarcely  ten 
minutes'  conversation  ! 

She  gratefully  accedes  to  his  proposal. 

"  I  should  greatly  prefer  your  making  the  trial 


PARIS.  193 

on  the  stage  itself,  rather  than  in  the  foyer,"  says 
Morinski.  "  I  could  decide  far  better  as  to  the 
strength  of  your  voice.  Have  the  kindness  to 
follow  me." 

And,  leading  the  way,  he  precedes  them  through 
an  endless  labyrinth  of  ill-lighted  corridors  to  the 
stage,  which,  illuminated  at  this  hour  by  only  a 
couple  of  foot-lights,  shows  gray  and  colourless 
against  the  pitch-dark  auditorium. 

The  boards  of  the  stage  are  marked  with  various 
lines  in  chalk,  cabalistic  signs  of  mysterious  signifi- 
cance to  Stella;  in  front  of  the  prompter's  box 
stands  a  prima  donna  with  her  bonnet-strings  un- 
tied and  -her  fur  cloak  hanging  loosely  about  her 
shoulders,  singing  in  an  undertone  a  duet  with  a 
tenor  in  a  tall  silk  hat  who  is  kneeling  at  her  feet; 
at  the  piano,  just  below,  sits  the  leader  of  the 
orchestra,  a  little  Italian,  with  long,  straight,  white 
hair,  and  dark  eyebrows  that  protrude  for  at  least 
an  inch  over  his  fierce  black  eyes,  pounding  away 
at  the  accompaniment,  evidently  more  to  accentuate 
the  rhythm  than  with  any  desire  to  accompany 
harmoniously  the  duet  of  the  pair. 

"  The  rehearsal  will  be  over  immediately,"  Mo- 
rinski assures  the  two  ladies. 

In  fact,  the  duo  between  the  prima  donna  and  the 

tenor  shortly  comes  to  an  end.     A  short  discussion 

ensues,  during  which  the  prima  donna  alternately 

scolds  the  leader,  whom  she  accuses  of  paying  no 

i       n  17 


194  ERLACH  COURT. 

attention  to  the  ritardandos,  and  the  tenor  for  his 
"  lamentable  want  of  all  passion." 

Morinski  throws  himself  metaphorically  between 
the  disputants  and  kisses  the  prima  donna's  hand. 
Without  paying  him  much  attention,  she  scans 
Stella  from  head  to  foot,  says,  with  an  ironical  de- 
pression of  the  corners  of  her  mouth,  "  Ah  !  a  new 
star,  Morinski !"  and  withdraws,  with  an  intensely 
theatrical  stride,  her  loose  fur  dolman  trailing  be- 
hind her. 

"  Hm !  a  new  star,  Morinski !"  the  leader  re- 
peats also  ironically,  stuffing  an  immense  pinch  of 
snuff  the  while  into  his  nose. 

"Let  us  hope  so,"  Morinski  replies,  with  re- 
proving courtesy. 

"  Is  the  signorina  to  sing  us  something  ?  It  is 
twelve  o'clock,  Morinski ;  I  am  hungry.  If  it 
must  be,  let  us  be  quick.  What  shall  I  accompany 
for  you,  mademoiselle  ?" 

"Ahfors'  &  lui  che  I'anima!"  Stella  says,  in  a  shy 
whisper,  "  from " 

"  I  know,  I  know, — from  Traviata,"  the  leader 
replies.  "  You  sing  it  in  the  original  key  ?" 

"  Yes." 

Almost  before  Stella  has  time  to  take  breath,  the 
little  man  has  struck  the  chords  of  the  prelude.  In 
the  midst  of  the  aria  he  takes  his  hands  from  the 
keys,  and  shakes  his  head  disapprovingly,  so  that 
his  long  hair  flutters  about  his  ears. 


PARIS.  195 

"  Eh  bien  ?"  Morinski  calls,  with  some  irritation. 

"  I  have  heard  enough,"  the  other  declares,  de- 
cidedly. "  Haven't  you,  Morinski  ?  It  is  a  per- 
fectly impossible  way  to  sing, — a  perfectly  impossi- 
ble way !" 

"  Do  not  be  discouraged,  Fraulein,"  says  Morin- 
ski,  reassuringly.  "  Your  voice  is  superb,  full,  soft, 
— one  of  the  finest  that  I  have  heard  for  a  long 
time." 

"  I  do  not  say  no,  Morinski,"  the  leader  inter- 
poses, with  the  croak  of  a  raven,  "  but  she  is  ab- 
solutely lacking  in  rhythm,  routine,  and  aplomb." 

"  She  needs  a  good  teacher,"  says  Morinski. 

"  The  teacher  has  nothing  to  do  with  it !"  shouts 
the  leader,  and  with  an  annihilating  stare  at  Stella 
he  sums  up  his  judgment  of  her  in  the  words, 
"  C'est  unefemme  du  monde.  You  will  never  make 
a  singer  of  her!"  Then,  with  the  energy  that 
characterizes  his  every  movement,  he  sets  about 
trying  to  repair  the  injury  he  has  just  done  to  his 
silk  hat  by  brushing  it  the  wrong  way. 

Poor  Stella's  eyes  fill  with  tears.  Morinski  takes 
both  her  hands : 

"  Do  not  be  discouraged,  I  beg  of  you,  my  dear 
mademoiselle,  I  entreat;"  and  with  an  ardent 
glance  at  her  delicate  face  he  assures  her,  "  Believe 
me,  you  have  great  qualifications  for  success  on  the 
stage." 

"Trust  to   my   experience, — the  experience  of 


{96  ERLACH  COURT. 

forty  years;  you  never  will  succeed  on  the  stage !" 
shouts  the  Italian. 

"  Never  mind  what  he  says,"  Morinski  whispers. 
"  I  will  do  all  I  can  for  you.  I  shall  take  great 
pleasure  in  superintending  your  lessons  personally." 

But  the  leader  has  sharp  ears :  "  Pas  de  bttises, 
Morinski !"  He  has  put  on  his  hat,  and  is  search- 
ing with  characteristic  eagerness  in  all  his  pockets. 
"  There  is  ray  card,"  he  says,  at  last,  drawing  it 
forth  and  handing  it  to  the  Baroness.  "  If  you 
want  your  daughter  taught  to  sing,  take  her  to 
della  Seggiola,  Rue  Lamartine,  No ,  the  sing- 
ing-teacher of  the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain  and 
the  Faubourg  Saiut-Honore,  precisely  what  you 
want.  liefer  to  me  if  you  like ;  he  will  make  his 
charges  reasonable  for  you.  Dio  mio,  how  hungry 
I  am !  Allans,  Morinski !" 

This  is  the  exact  history  of  Stella  Meineck's  trial 
of  her  voice  at  the  lyric  opera  in  Paris. 

The  Baroness  has  just  enough  sense  and  pru- 
dence left  not  to  allow  Stella  to  take  lessons  of 
Morinski. 

Following  the  advice  of  the  energetic  Italian,  she 
takes  her  daughter  to  Signor  della  Seggiela. 


THERESE  DE  ROHRITZ.  197 

CHAPTER   XX. 

THERESE    DE   ROHRITZ. 

WINTER — such  winter  as  Paris  is  familiar  with 
— has  set  in,  to  make  itself  at  home.  The  gar- 
deners have  stripped  the  squares  and  public 
gardens  of  their  last  flowers;  the  trees  and  the 
grass  and  the  bare  sod  are  powdered  with  snow. 
When  one  says  '  as  white'  or  '  as  pure'  as  snow, 
one  must  never  think  of  Paris  snow,  for  it  is 
brown,  black,  gray, — everything  except  white;  and, 
as  if  ashamed  of  its  characterless  existence,  it  creeps 
as  soon  as  possible  into  the  earth. 

Full  six  weeks  have  passed  since  the  Meinecks 
took  up  their  abode  in  '  The  Three  Negroes.'  In 
order  to  increase  their  means,  the  Baroness  has 
generously  determined  to  write  newspaper  articles, 
although  she  has  a  supreme  contempt  for  all  jour- 
nalistic effort,  and  she  has  also  completed  two 
shorter  essays,  for  which  the  Berlin  '  Tribune'  pai4 
her  twenty-five  marks. 

With  a  view  to  making  her  descriptions  of  the 
world's  capital  vividly  real,  she  pursues  her  study 
of  Paris  with  all  the  thoroughness  that  charac- 
terizes her  study  of  history.  She  has  visited  the 
Morgue,  as  well  as  Valentino's,  note-book  in  hand, 

17* 


198  ERLACH  COURT. 

but  escorted  by  an  old  carpenter,  who  once  mended 
a  trunk  for  her  and  won  her  heart  by  his  sensible 
way  of  talking  politics.  She  paid  him  five  francs 
for  his  companionship,  and  maintains  that  he  was 
far  less  tiresome  at  Valentino's  than  a  fine  gentle- 
man. She  has  devised  a  most  interesting  visit 
shortly  to  be  paid  to  the  Parisian  sewers.  Mean- 
while, in  order  to  make  herself  perfectly  familiar 
with  the  life  of  the  streets,  she  spends  three  hours 
daily,  two  in  the  forenoon  and  one  in  the  after- 
noon, upon  the  top  of  various  omnibuses. 

And  Stella, — how  does  she  pass  her  time  ?  Four 
times  a  week  she  takes  a  singing-lesson, — two  private 
lessons,  and  two  in  della  Seggiola's  '  class,'  besides 
which  she  practises  daily  for  about  two  hours  at 
home.  She  is  at  liberty  to  spend  the  rest  of  her 
time  in  any  mode  of  self-culture  that  pleases  her. 
She  can  go,  if  she  is  so  inclined,  to  the  Rue  Riche- 
lieu with  her  mother,  or  visit  the  Louvre  alone, 
can  attend  to  little  matters  at  home,  or  read  learned 
works  and  write  extracts  from  them  in  the  book 
bound  in  antique  leather  which  her  mother  gave 
her  upon  her  birthday. 

What  wealth  of  various  and  interesting  occupa- 
tions and  pleasures  for  a  girl  of  twenty-one !  It  is 
quite  inconceivable,  but  nevertheless  it  is  true,  that 
in  spite  of  them  she  feels  lonely  and  unhappy, — 
grows  daily  more  nervous  and  restless,  and,  without 
being  able  to  define  exactly  the  cause  of  her  sadness, 


TIIERESE  DE  ROHRITZ.  199 

more  melancholy.  Her  energetic  mother,  to  whom 
such  a  vague  discontent  is  absolutely  inconceivable, 
reproaches  her  with  a  want  of  earnestness  in  her 
studies  and  induces  a  physician  to  prescribe  iron 
for  her. 

What  is  there  that  iron  is  not  expected  to  cure  ? 

To-day  Stella  is  again  alone  at  home;  her 
mother  has  gone  out  after  lunch  to  take  her  bird's- 
eye  view  of  Paris  from  the  top  of  an  omnibus.  She 
has  graciously  offered  to  take  Stella  with  her,  but 
Stella  thanks  her  and  declines ;  she  detests  riding 
in  omnibuses,  on  the  top  she  grows  dizzy,  and  in- 
side she  becomes  ill. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  the  only  thing  that  would 
really  please  you  would  be  to  drive  in  a  barouche- 
and-pair  in  the  Bois,"  her  mother  remarks.  "  Un- 
fortunately, that  I  cannot  afford."  With  which 
she  hurries  away. 

Stella's  throat  aches ;  she  often  has  a  throat-ache, 
— the  specific  throat-ache  of  a  poor  child  of  mor- 
tality who  has  learned  to  sing  with  seven  different 
professors,  and  whose  voice  has  been  treated  at 
different  times  as  a  soprano,  a  mezzo-soprano,  and 
a  deep  contralto.  She  has  been  obliged  to  stop  prac- 
tising in  consequence,  to-day,  and  has  taken  up  a 
volume  of  Gibbon,  but  is  too  distraite  to  compre- 
hend what  she  reads.  It  really  is  strange  how 
slight  an  interest  she  takes  in  the  decline  of  the 
Roman  Empire. 


200  ERLACH  COURT. 

"  And  if  I  should  not  succeed  upon  the  stage,  if 
my  voice  should  not  turn  out  well,"  she  constantly 
asks  herself,  "  what  then  ?  what  then  ?" 

Why,  for  a  moment — oh,  how  her  cheeks  hum 
as  she  recalls  her  delusion  ! — she  absolutely  allowed 

herself  to  imagine  that How  bitterly  she  has 

learned  to  sneer  at  her  fantastic  dreams ! 

"  Has  Edmund  Rohritz's  wife  not  yet  been  to  see 
you  ?"  Leskjewitsch  hud  asked  her  mother  in  a 
letter  shortly  before.  "  You  do  not  know  her,  but 
I  begged  Edgar  awhile  ago  to  send  her  to  you, — 
she  would  be  so  advantageous  an  acquaintance  for 
Stella." 

"  She  would  indeed,"  the  poor  child  thinks ;  "  but 
not  even  his  old  friend's  request  has  induced  him 
to  do  me  a  kindness." 

Her  sad,  weary  glance  wanders  absently  over  the 
various  lithographs  that  adorn  the  walls,  portraits 
of  famous  singers,  Tamberlik,  Rubini,  Mario,  all 
with  the  signature  of  those  celebrities.  Apparently 
the  hotel  must  formerly  have  enjoyed  an  extensive 
artistic  patronage. 

She  takes  up  Gibbon  once  more,  and  does  her 
best  to  become  absorbed  in  the  destinies  of  the 
tribunes  of  the  people.  In  vain. 

"  Good  heavens  !"  she  exclaims,  irritably,  "  who 
could  read  a  serious  book  in  all  this  noise  ?  And 
'  The  Negroes'  was  recommended  to  us  as  a  quiet 
hotel !" 


THERESE  DE  ROHRITZ.  201 

The  Deputy  from  the  south  of  France  is  pacing 
the  room  above  her  to  and  fro,  now  repeating  in  a 
murmur  and  anon  declaiming  with  grotesque  pathos 
to  the  empty  air  the  speech  which  he  is  learning 
by  heart. 

In  the  room  next  to  him  an  amateur  performer  is 
piping  '  The  Last  Rose  of  Summer'  on  a  very  hoarse 
flute, — an  English  bagman,  who  is  suffering  from 
an  inflammation  of  the  eyes,  wherefore  we  must  not 
grudge  him  his  musical  distractions.  He  is  piping 
'  The  Last  Rose'  for  the  eighteenth  time ;  Stella 
has  counted. 

"  'Tis  beyond  endurance !"  the  girl  exclaims, 
closing  her  Gibbon.  "Ah,  heavens,  how  dreary 
life  is !"  she  groans.  "  I  wish  I  were  dead !" 

Just  then  there  comes  a  ring  at  the  door.  Stella 
opens  it.  A  tall,  smooth-shaven  lackey  stands  in 
the  corridor  and  hands  her  a  card  : 

"  La  Baronne  Edmond  de  Rohritz,  nee  Princesse 
Capita" 

"  Madame  la  Baronne  wishes  to  know  if  the 
Frau  Baroness  is  receiving?"  the  man  asks,  van- 
ishing when  Stella  assents. 

"  He  probably  takes  me  for  a  waiting-maid," 
Stella  thinks,  childishly,  not  without  some  petty 
annoyance  that  she  was  forced  to  open  the  door  her- 
self for  the  servant,  and  she  hurries  into  the  salon, 
to  put  away  a  piece  of  mending  which  is  by  no 
means  ornamental.  Scarcely  has  she  done  so  when 


202  ERLACH  COURT. 

a  light  foot-fall  conies  tripping  up  the  stairs.  There 
is  another  ring,  and  again  Stella  opens  the  door.  A 
lady  enters,  slender,  very  pale,  with  delicately-cut 
features,  and  large,  black,  rather  restless  eyes,  which 
she  slightly  closes  as  she  looks  at  Stella,  and  then 
pleasantly  holds  out  her  hand : 

"  Mademoiselle  Meineck,  rfest-ce  pas  ?" 

Not  for  one  moment  is  she  in  doubt  whether 
this  tall  girl  in  a  plain  stuff  dress  be  a  soubrette 
or  not. 

"  My  brother-in-law  Rohritz  wrote  me  some  time 
ago  telling  me  to  call  upon  your  mother  and  your- 
self and  to  ask  if  I  could  be  of  any  service  to  you. 
I  have  promised  myself  the  pleasure  of  doing  so 
every  day  since ;  my  very  critical  brother's  letter 
inspired  me  with  eager  curiosity ;  but  one  never 
has  time  for  anything  in  Paris, — nothing  pleasant, 
that  is.  Well,  here  I  am  at  last.  Is  your  mother 
at  home  ?" 

"  My  mother  has  gone  out,  but  will  shortly 
return;  she  would  greatly  regret  missing  you, 
madame.  If  you  could  be  content  with  my  society 
for  a  while "  Stella  rejoins. 

"  I  should  be  delighted  to  have  a  little  talk  with 
you,"  the  lady  assures  her ;  "  but  do  you  suppose 
I  have  time  to  stay  ?  What  an  idea  in  Paris  !  I 
had  to  fairly  steal  a  quarter  of  an  hour  of  time 
already  appropriated  to  come  to  see  you.  We 
must  postpone  our  talk.  I  trust  I  shall  see  a  great 


THERESE  DE  ROHRITZ.  203 

deal  of  you ;  I  am  always  at  leisure  in  the  even- 
ing,— that  is,  when  I  do  not  have  to  go  to  bed 
from  sheer  fatigue  !  And  how  have  you  passed 
the  time  since  you  came  to  Paris  ?" 

Madame  de  Rohritz  has  installed  herself  in  an 
arm-chair  by  the  fireplace,  has  put  up  her  veil 
and  thrown  back  her  furs  from  her  shoulders. 

A  delicate  fragrance  exhales  from  her  robes ;  all 
Parisian  women  use  perfumes,  but  how  refined, 
how  exquisite,  is  this  fragrance  compared  with  the 
overpowering  odour  of  Peau,  d'Espagne  which  sur- 
rounds the  Princess  Oblonsky ! 

Therese  Rohritz  does  not  possess  her  brother's 
beauty,  but  everything  about  her  is  graceful  and 
attractive, — her  veiled  glance, — a  glance  which 
can  be  half  impertinent  sometimes,  but  which  rests 
upon  Stella  with  evident  liking, — her  beaming  and 
yet  slightly  weary  smile, — yes,  even  her  hurried 
articulation  and  her  high-pitched  but  soft  and 
melodious  voice. 

"  How  have  you  passed  the  time  since  you  came 
to  Paris  ?"  she  asks  again. 

"  We  live  very  quietly,"  Stella  stammers. 
"  Mamma  is  studying  that  she  may  finish  her 
book,  and  of  course  has  no  time  to  go  out  with 
me." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know ;  my  brother-in-law  told  me," 
Madame  de  Rohritz  replies.  "  And  you " 

"  I  ?     I  take  singing-lessons  four  times  a  week." 


204  ERLACH  COURT. 

"  My  brother-in-law  wrote  me  that  you  intend  to 
go  upon  the  stage."  Madame  de  Rohritz  laughs. 
"  If  I  were  a  Frenchwoman  1  should  be  horrified 
at  the  idea,  but  I  am  half  an  Austrian.  I  know 
those  whims :  a  cousin  of  mine,  a  Russian,  Natalie 
Lipinski " 

"  Natalie  Lipinski !  Ah !"  Stella  exclaims ;  "  my 
fellow-student.  We  take  lessons  together  twice  a 
week  in  Signer  della  Seggiola's  class." 

"  Indeed !  Well ,  she  is  thinking  of  going  upon 
the  stage, — and  with  a  fortune  of  ten  million  rou- 
bles. In  Austria  and  Russia  such  ideas  will  take 
possession  of  the. brains  of  the  best-born  and  best- 
bred  girls;  cela  ne  tire  pas  a  consequence!  I  never 
oppose  Natalie,  but  I  mean  to  have  her  married 
before  she  knows  what  she  is  about.  And  what 
shall  I  do  with  you,  my  fair  one  with  the  golden 
locks?  Do  you  know  I  like  you  exceedingly? 
Le  coup  defoudre  en  plein, — love  at  first  sight." 

The  clock  on  the  chimney-piece — a  clock  ap- 
parently dating  from  the  days  when  '  L'Africaine' 
was  the  rage,  for  the  face  is  adorned  with  a  man- 
chineel-tree  in  miniature  and  a  barbaric  maiden  in 
a  head-dress  of  feathers  dying  beneath  it — strikes 
three. 

The  lady  starts  up,  takes  out  her  watch,  and 
compares  it  with  the  clock. 

"  Positively  three  o'clock,  and  my  poor  little 
boy  is  waiting  for  me  in  the  carriage !  I  was  to 


AN  AUSTRIAN  HOST.  205 

take  him  to  his  solfeggio  class  at  three.  Adieu, 
adieu ;  my  compliments  to  your  mother,  and  au  re- 
voir,  n'est-ce  pas  ?"  She  turns  once  again  in  the 
door-way,  and,  taking  both  Stella's  hands,  says, 
"  You  will  come  to  dine  with  us  once  this  week 
with  your  mother  quite  en  famille  the  first  time, 
that  we  may  learn  to  know  one  another.  I  will 
excuse  a  formal  call :  you  can  pay  that  later :  it  is 
silly  to  lose  time  with  formalities  when  one  is  simi- 
patica.  Adieu,  adieu.  What  beautiful  eyes  you 
have  !  Je  me  sauve  /" 

The  lively  young  madame  kisses  Stella's  fore- 
head, and  then  goes — or  rather  flies — away. 

Stella's  heart  beats  fast  and  loud. 

"  After  all,  he  sent  her:  he  has  not  quite  forgot- 
ten me." 


CHAPTER   XXL 

AN   AUSTRIAN    HOST. 

"  HM  !  indeed !  Now  I  can  no  longer  be  shabby 
at  my  ease."  These  were  the  words  with  which 
the  Baroness  on  her  return  home  greeted  Stella's 
joyous  announcement  of  Madame  de  Rohritz's  visit. 
"  I  took  such  pleasure  in  living  in  a  place  where 
nobody  knew  me." 

18 


206  ERLACH  COURT. 

However  problematical  in  some  respects  the  cre- 
ative power  of  the  Baroness  may  be,  she  is  certainly 
thoroughly  saturated  with  what  the  English  call 
'  the  sublime  egotism  of  genius.' 

When  on  the  morning  after  her  visit  a  note 
redolent  of  violets  arrives  from  Madame  de  Rohritz, 
inviting  in  the  kindest  manner  the  two  ladies  to 
dinner  at  half-past  seven  the  next  evening  but  one, 
the  Baroness  makes  a  wry  face,  and  remarks  that 
really  Madame  de  Rohritz  might  have  waited  until 
her  call  had  been  returned, — that  such  a  degree 
of  eagerness  on  the  part  of  a  woman  of  the  world 
betokens  a  degree  of  exaggeration, — but,  despite 
her  grumbling,  permits  herself  to  accede  to  the 
entreaty  in  her  daughter's  eyes,  and  to  accept  the 
invitation. 

"Upon  condition  that  you  atten  1  to  my  dress," 
she  says;  to  which  Stella  of  course  makes  no 
objection. 

The  evening  wardrobe  of  the  Baroness  consists 
of  a  black  velvet  gown  which  is  now  precisely 
seventeen  years  old,  and  which  underwent  reno- 
vation at  the  time  of  her  eldest  daughter's  mar- 
riage. The  number  of  Stella's  evening  dresses  is 
limited  to  two  very  charming  gowns  which  the 
colonel  had  made  for  her  in  Venice,  regardless  of 
expense,  by  the  best  dress- maker  there,  but  which 
are  at  present  slightly  old-fashioned. 

But,  neglectful  as  the  Baroness  is  about  her  per- 


AN  AUSTRIAN  HOST.  207 

sonal  appearance,  she  has  an  air  of  great  distinc- 
tion -when  she  makes  up  her  mind  to  be  pre- 
sentable, and  covers  her  short  gray  hair,  usually 
flying  loose  about  her  ears,  with  a  black  lace  cap ; 
while  Stella  is  always  charming.  She  would  be 
lovely  in  the  brown  robe  of  a  monk;  in  her  pale- 
blue  cachemire,  with  a  bunch  of  yellow  roses  on  her 
left  shoulder,  directly  below  her  ear,  she  is  bewitch- 
ing. Her  heart  throbs  not  a  little  as  she  drives 
with  her  mother  in  a  draughty,  rattling  fiacre  across 
Paris  to  the  Avenue  Villiers. 

She  is  not  at  all  tired  of  life  to-day,  but,  entirely 
forgetting  how  quickly  her  air-built  castles  fall  to 
ruin,  she  is  eagerly  engaged  again  in  similar  archi- 
tecture. 

Madame  de  Rohritz  occupies  a  rather  small  hotel 
with  a  court-yard  and  garden.  The  entire  house- 
hold conveys  the  impression  of  distinguished  com- 
fort without  ostentation.  In  the  vestibule — a  gem 
of  a  vestibule,  with  two  ancient  Japanese  mon- 
sters on  either  side  of  the  door  of  entrance,  with 
Flanders  tapestries  embroidered  in  gold  on  the 
walls,  and  Oriental  rugs  under-foot — a  servant  re- 
lieves the  ladies  of  their  wraps. 

Stella  immediately  perceives  by  the  way  in  which 
her  mother  arranges  her  hair  before  the  mirror 
that,  whether  it  be  the  monsters  at  the  door,  or 
the  Arazzi  on  the  wall,  something  has  had  a  bene- 
ficial effect  upon  her  mood, — that  to-night,  as  is 


208  ERLACH  COURT. 

sometimes  the  case,  her  ambition  is  roused  to 
prove  that  a  learned  woman  under  certain  cir- 
cumstances can  be  more  amiable  and  amusing 
than  any  woman  with  nothing  in  her  head  save 
*  dress  and  the  men.' 

In  the  salon,  whither  they  are  conducted  by  the 
maitre-d'hotel,  a  familiar  spirit  who  is  half  a  head 
shorter  but  half  a  head  more  dignified  than  the  foot- 
man, they  find  only  the  master  of  the  house.  Not 
introduced,  and  quite  unacquainted,  he  neverthe- 
less advances  with  both  hands  extended,  saying, — 

"  It  rejoices  me  exceedingly  to  welcome  two  of 
my  compatriots !" 

"  It  rejoices  us  also,"  the  Baroness  amiably  as- 
sures him. 

Baron  Rohritz  scans  her  with  discreetly-veiled 
curiosity.  "  Why  did  my  brother  write  that  I 
should  find  the  Baroness  rather  extraordinary  at 
first  ?  She  is  a  charming,  distinguished  old  lady." 
Aloud  he  says,  "  My  wife  made  promises  loud  and 
earnest  to  be  here  in  time  to  present  me  to  the 
ladies ;  but  it  seems  she  was  mistaken." 

"  Perhaps  we  were  too  punctual,"  the  Baroness 
replies,  smiling. 

"  Not  at  all,"  the  Baron  declares ;  "  but  my  poor 
wife  is  proverbially  unpunctual.  No  one  has  ever 
been  able  to  convince  her  that  there  are  but  sixty 
minutes  in  an  hour,  and  consequently  she  always 
tries  to  do  in  an  afternoon  that  for  which  an  entire 


AN  AUSTRIAN  HOST.  209 

week  would  hardly  suffice.  Pray  warm  yourselves 
meanwhile,  ladies :  here,  these  are  the  most  com- 
fortable places, — not  too  near  the  blaze.  I  have 
had  an  Austrian  fire  made  for  you,  and  have 
actually  nearly  succeeded  in  warming  the  entire 
salon.  We  Austrians  require  a  higher  degree  of 
heat  than  these  crazy  Frenchmen ;  they  always 
maintain  they  are  never  cold ;  they  are  quite  satis- 
fied if  they  can  see  a  little  picturesque  blaze  in 
the  chimney,  and  they  sit  down  close  to  it  and 
thrust  their  hands  and  feet  and  heads  into  it, 
thereby  giving  themselves  chilblains,  neuralgia, 
rheumatism,  and  heaven  knows  what  else;  but 
they  are  never  cold." 

Although  the  fire  is  large  enough,  Baron  Roh- 
ritz  throws  on  another  log,  so  eager  is  he  to  bear 
his  testimony  to  the  affectation  and  self-conceit 
of  the  Parisians. 

"  How  wonderfully  cosey  and  comfortable  you 
have  contrived  to  make  your  home  here !  As  I 
entered  I  seemed  to  be  breathing  the  air  of  Aus- 
tria. Since  we  came  to  Paris  I  have  not  felt  so 
comfortable  as  at  present,"  says  the  Baroness.  If 
Baron  Rohritz  knew  that  since  her  arrival  in  Paris 
her  time  has  been  spent  either  on  the  top  of  an 
omnibus  or  in  rather  comfortless  furnished  lodg- 
ings, the  worth  of  this  compliment  might  be  less : 
in  happy  ignorance,  however,  he  feels  extremely 
flattered,  and,  with  a  bow,  rejoins, — 

o  18* 


210  ERLACH  COURT. 

"  I  am  very  glad  our  nest  pleases  you.  The 
chief  credit  for  its  arrangement  belongs  to  my 
wife.  You  cannot  imagine  how  she  runs  herself 
out  of  breath  to  pick  up  pretty  things.  But  it  is 
like  Austria  here,  is  it  not  ?" 

"  Entirely,"  the  Baroness  assures  him. 

"  My  wife  is  incomprehensible  to  me,"  the  mas- 
ter of  the  house  remarks,  after  the  above  inter- 
change of  civilities,  glancing  uneasily  at  the  clock 
on  the  chimney-piece.  "  It  is  now  just  half  an 
hour  since  I  helped  her  half  dead  out  of  a  fiacre, 
with  I  cannot  tell  how  many  packages.  I  trust 
she  is  not "  . 

The  portiere  rustles  apart.  Extremely  slender, 
bringing  with  her  the  odour  of  violets,  and 
shrouded  in  a  mass  of  black  crepe  de  Chine  and 
black  lace,  dying  with  fatigue  and  sparkling  with 
vivacity,  the  Baroness  Rohritz  enters,  fastening  the 
clasp  of  a  bracelet  as  she  does  so. 

"  Good-evening.  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons  !  I 
am  excessively  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance, 
Baroness  Meineck.  Can  you  forgive  my  ill-breed- 
ing in  keeping  you  waiting  on  this  the  first  even- 
ing that  you  have  given  me  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
you  here  ?  It  is  terrible !" 

"  Ah,  don't  mention  it,"  the  Baroness  replies, 
and,  although  the  younger  lady  speaks  German  in 
her  honour,  answering  in  French:  she  is  very 
proud  of  her  French. 


AN  AUSTRIAN  HOST.  211 

"  Mais  si,  mais  si,  I  am  most  unfortunate,  but 
innocent, — quite  innocent.  It  is  positively  impos- 
sible to  be  in  time  in  Paris.  Well,  and  how  do 
you  do  ?"  turning  to  Stella  and  lightly  passing  her 
hand  over  the  girl's  cheek.  "You  are  always 
twitting  me  with  my  enthusiasm,  Edmund :  did  I 
exaggerate  this  time  ?" 

"  No,  not  in  the  least,"  her  husband  affirms :  it 
would  have  been  difficult,  however,  for  him  to  make 
any  other  reply  without  infringing  upon  the  rules 
of  politeness. 

"  Who  made  your  dress  for  you  ?  It  is  charm- 
ing. And  how  beautifully  you  have  put  in  your 
roses ! — but  violet  suits  light  blue  better  than  yel- 
low. Shall  we  change  ?"  And,  unfastening  the 
roses  from  Stella's  shoulder,  Therese  Rohritz  takes 
a  bunch  of  dark  Russian  violets  from  her  girdle 
and  arranges  them  on  Stella's  gown,  all  with  the 
same  graceful,  laughing,  breathless  amiability. 

To  conquer  all  hearts,  to  make  everybody  happy, 
to  give  every  one  advice,  to  attend  to  every  one's 
commissions,  to  oblige  all  the  world, — this  is  the 
mania  of  Edgar's  sister-in-law.  He  once  declared 
that  she  went  whirling  through  existence,  a  perfect 
hurricane  of  over-excellent  qualities. 

"  What  are  we  waiting  for,  Therese  ?"  the  mas- 
ter of  the  house  interrupts  the  flow  of  his  wife's 
eloquence,  in  a  rather  impatient  tone. 

"For  Zino." 


212  ERLACH  COURT. 

"'He  excused  himself.  I  put  his  note  on  your 
dressing-table.  When  he  received  your  invitation 
he  was  unfortunately — very  unfortunately,  under- 
scored— engaged;  but  he  hopes  to  be  here  soon 
after  ten,"  Rohritz  explains,  having  rung  the  bell 
meanwhile,  whereupon  the  maitre-d'hotel,  throw- 
ing open  the  folding-doors,  announces, — 

"  Madame  la  Baronne  est  Servie." 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

FRENCH   INFERIORITY. 

ONE  observation  Stella  makes  during  the  dinner, 
— namely,  that  married  people  apparently  living 
happily  together  in  Paris  suffer  quite  as  much 
from  a  chronic  difference  of  opinion  as  those  in 
Austria.  Baron  Rohritz  and  Therese  do  not  quarrel 
one  iota  less  than  Jack  Leskjewitsch  and  his  wife. 

Although  Rohritz,  as  a  former  diplomatist, — a 
career  which  he  abandoned  five  years  ago  on  ac- 
count of  a  difference  with  his  chief  and  an  abso- 
lute lack  of  ambition, — and  from  long  residence 
in  Paris,  speaks  perfect  French,  the  conversation 
at  his  special  request  is  carried  on  in  German. 

During  dinner  he  incessantly  makes  all  kinds  of 
comparisons  between  Austria  and  France,  of  course 


FRENCH  INFERIORITY.  213 

to  the  disadvantage  of  the  latter  country.  Nothing 
suits  him  in  Paris ;  he  abuses  everything,  from  the 
perfect  cooking,  as  it  appears  at  his  own  table,  to 
the  exquisite  troop  of  actors  at  the  F ratals. 

"  I  have  no  objection  to  make  to  the  fish,"  he 
says,  condescendingly.  "  I  am  entirely  without 
prejudice ;  and  when  there  is  anything  to  be 
praised  in  France  I  always  do  it  justice.  But 
look  at  the  game :  French  game  is  deplorable, — 
marshy,  tasteless,  without  flavour.  Even  the  Stras- 
burg  pie  can  be  had  better  in  Vienna.  Do  you 
not  think  so  ?" 

"  You  will  be  thought  an  actual  ogre,  Edmund," 
Therese  remonstrates,  half  laughing,  half  vexed. 
"  You  talk  of  nothing  to-day  but  food." 

"Perhaps  so;  but,  as  you  will  have  observed, 
only  from  a  lofty,  strictly  patriotic  point  of  view," 
her  husband  remarks,  composedly. 

"  Of  course,"  Therese  replies.  "  I  can,  however, 
assure  you,"  she  says,  turning  to  her  guests,  "  that 
although  I  cannot  defend  the  Parisians  in  all  re- 
spects, in  one  thing  they  are  far  beyond  the  Vien- 
nese :  although  they  do  not  fall  behind  them  in 
cookery,  they  think  much  less  of  things  to  eat." 

"  True,"  Edmund  agrees,  "  and  very  naturally ; 
they  think  less  of  their  eating  because  they  can't 
eat;  they  have  no  digestion.  They  certainly  are 
a  weak,  degenerate  race.  Did  you  ever  watch 
a  regiment  of  French  soldiers  march  past,  ladies, 


214  ERLACH  COURT. 

either  cavalry  or  infantry  ?  It  is  quite  pitiable, 
their  military.  Do  you  not  think  so  ?" 

The  Baroness  cannot  help  admitting  that  he  is 
measurably  right  this  time,  and  as  the  widow  of 
a  soldier  she  indulges  in  a  hymn  of  praise  of  the 
Austrian  army,  thus  enchanting  the  Baron,  who 
before  entering  the  diplomatic  corps  served,  to 
complete  his  education,  in  a  cavalry  regiment. 

"  I  should  really  like  to  know  why  these  people 
are  in  such  a  hurry,"  he  begins  again,  after  a  while, 
calling  attention  to  the  speed  with  which  dinner 
is  being  served.  "  I  suppose  the  rascals  intend  to 
go  to  Valentino's  after  dinner." 

"  Their  hurry  will  do  them  no  good  then," 
Therese  remarks,  shrugging  her  shoulders;  "they 
will  have  to  serve  tea  later  in  the  evening.  I 
simply  suppose  that  they  take  it  as  a  personal  af- 
front that  we  should  converse  in  a  language  which 
they  do  not  understand." 

"  Possibly,"  sighs  Rohritz.  "  These  Parisian 
lackeys  are  intolerable;  their  pretensions  far  out- 
strip our  modest  Austrian  means.  You  may  read 
plainly  in  their  faces,  *  I  serve,  'tis  true,  but  I  ad- 
here to  the  immortal  principles  of  '89.'  Every 
fellow  is  convinced  that  his  period  of  servitude 
is  only  an  intermezzo  in  his  life,  and  that  some  fine 
day  he  shall  be  Duke  of  Persigny  or  Malakoff, — in 
short,  a  far  grander  gentleman  than  I.  Am  I  not 
right,  Therese  ?" 


FRENCH  INFERIORITY.  215 

"  Perfectly,"  his  wife  asserts.  "  But  let  me  ask 
you  one  question,  my  dear:  if  you  find  Paris  so 
inferior  in  everything,  from  Strasburg  pie  to  the 
domestics,  why  did  you  not  stay  in  Vienna?" 

"  Oh,  that  is  another  question, — quite  a  different 
question,"  Rohritz  replies. 

"  Ah,  yes,"  Therese  says,  triumphantly.  "  You 
must  know,  ladies,  that  my  husband's  patriotism  is 
not  so  ardent  as  would  seem,  but  rather  of  a  pla- 
tonic  character;  he  loves  his  country  at  a  distance. 
When,  five  years  ago,  after  we  had  been  here  some 
time,  he  gave  up  his  career  and  wanted  to  go  back 
to  Vienna,  I  made  no  objections  whatever,  and  we 
established  ourselves  in  his  beloved  native  city,  at 
first  only  provisionally.  At  the  end  of  six  months 
he  was  so  frightfully  bored  that  he  actually  longed 
for  Paris." 

Edmund  dips  his  fingers  in  his  finger-glass  with 
a  slightly  embarrassed  air. 

"  That  is  true,"  he  admits.  "  Paris  is  the  Manon 
Lescaut  of  European  capitals :  worthless  thing  that 
she  is,  we  can  never  be  rid  of  her  if  she  has  once 
bewitched  us." 

And  as  Therese  prepares  to  rise  from  table  he 
asks,  "  Do  you  object  to  a  cigarette,  ladies,  and 
are  you  fond  of  children?  Then,  Therese,  let  us 
take  coffee  in  the  smoking-room,  where  I  am  sure 
the  children  are  waiting  for  me." 


216  ERLACH  COURT. 

CHAPTER   XXIII. 

PRINCE   ZINO   CAPITO. 

THE  smoking-room  is  a  somewhat  narrow  apart- 
ment, with  a  large  Oriental  rug  before  the  broad 
double  windows,  with  very  beautiful  old  weapons 
in  a  couple  of  stands  against  the  wall,  and  with 
heavy  antique  carved  oaken  chests.  The  broad  low 
arm-chairs  and  divans  are  covered  with  Oriental 
rugs  and  carpets  which  Rohritz,  as  he  informs 
Stella,  brought  from  Cairo  himself. 

The  two  children,  a  little  boy  twelve  years  old, 
with  tight  red  stockings  and  very  short  breeches, 
and  a  little  girl  hardly  three,  in  a  white  gown, 
with  bare  legs  and  arms,  help  their  mamma  to 
serve  the  coffee.  Momond  takes  the  ladies  their 
cups,  and  Baby  is  steady  enough  on  her  legs  to 
trip  after  him  with  a  face  of  great  solemnity,  carry- 
ing the  silver  sugar-bowl  'tightly  hugged  up  in 
her  arms.  After  she  has  happily  completed  her 
round  she  puts  the  sugar-bowl  down  before  her 
mother,  with  a  sigh  of  relief  as  over  a  difficult  duty 
fulfilled,  and  smooths  down  her  short,  stiff  skirts 
with  a  very  decorous  air.  But  when  her  father, 
from  the  other  side  of  the  room,  where  he  is  talking 

7  o 

with  Stella,  smiles  at  her,  she  runs  to  him  with  a 


PRINCE  ZINO  CAP1TO.  217 

glad  cry,  forgetting  all  decorum  springs  into  his 
lap,  and  is  petted  and  caressed  by  him  to  his  heart's 
content. 

"  Do  you  know  whom  that  picture  represents, 
Baroness  Stella?"  the  host  now  asks,  pointing 
to  a  life-size  photograph  hanging  beneath  the  por- 
trait in  oil  of  a  beautiful,  fair  woman.  Although 
Stella  had  noticed  the  photograph  as  soon  as  she 
entered  the  smoking-room,  she  pretends  to  have 
her  attention  attracted  by  it  for  the  first  time. 

"  Yes,  the  likeness  can  still  be  recognized,"  she 
replies,  bestowing  a  critical  glance  upon  the  pic- 
ture, "  although  if  it  ever  looked  really  like  Baron 
Edgar  Rohritz  he  must  have  altered  very  much." 

"  Of  course,"  says  Rohritz :  "  the  picture  was 
taken  twelve  years  ago.  Edgar  had  it  taken 
for  our  mother,  just  before  he  went  to  Mexico. 
When  he  returned  to  Europe,  three  years  later, 
our  mother  was  dead,  and  he  was  gray, — gray  at 
twenty-seven !  As  he  was  always  our  mother's 
favourite,  I  have  hung  his  picture  below  hers." 

"  I  maintain  that  photograph  to  be  the  hand- 
somest head  of  a  man  which  I  know,"  Therese 
interrupts  her  conversation  with  the  Baroness  to 
declare.  "  We  often  dispute  about  it  with  my 
brother  Zino,  who  always  cites  the  Apollo  Bel- 
vedere ae  the  highest  type  of  manly  beauty " 

"  Because  he  himself  resembles  that  arrogant  fel- 
low in  the  Vatican,"  her  husband  interposes,  dryly. 

K  19 


218  ERLACH  COURT. 

It  is  strange  how  constantly  the  elder  brother 
recalls  Baron  Edgar,  although  considerably  older, 
and  by  no  means  so  distinguished  in  looks. 

Meanwhile,  Therese  runs  on  with  her  usual 
fluency : 

"  It  is  an  immense  pity  that  my  brother-in-law 
cannot  make  up  his  mind  to  marry.  You  really 
cannot  imagine,  ladies,  the  pains  I  have  taken 
to  throw  the  lasso  over  his  head.  Quite  in  vain  ! 
And  such  superb  matches  as  I  have  made  for  him, 
— Marguerite  de  Lusignan,  who  has  just  married 
the  Duke  Cesarini,  and  the  charming  Marie  de 
Galliere, — in  short,  the  loveliest,  wealthiest  girls, 
— tout  ce  qu'il  y  a  de  mieux.  Oddly  enough,  the 
mothers  liked  him  as  well  as  the  daughters.  In 
vain !  I  never  have  seen  a  man  with  so  decided 
a  distaste  for  matrimony  as  Edgar's.  Did  you 
chance  to  hear  of  the  scheme  by  which  he  con- 
trived in  Gratz  to  rid  himself  of  manoeuvring 
mammas  ?" 

"Yes,"  says  Stella,  very  coldly:  "he  spread 
abroad  a  report  that  he  had  suddenly  lost  his 
property." 

"  A  delicious  idea,"  Therese  laughs.  "  Do  you 
not  think  so  ?" 

Stella  is  silent. 

"  It  never  occurred  to  him  to  originate  the  re- 
port," Edmund  interposes  now,  rather  irritably; 
"  he  was  .merely  too  lazy  to  contradict  it.  To  hear 


PRINCE  ZINO  CAPITO.  219 

you  talk,  Therese,  one  would  suppose  Edgar  to  be 
the  most  self-conceited  coxcomb  under  the  sun, — 
a  man  who  spent  his  life  in  defending  himself 
from  the  attacks  of  matrimonially-inclined  ladies. 
But  I  assure  you,  Baroness  Stella,  that  Edgar  has 
not  a  trace  of  such  nonsensical  coxcombry.  Per- 
haps you  know  him  well  enough  to  make  your  own 
estimate  of  his  character." 

"  I  know  him  very  superficially,"  Stella  replies, 
with  a  shrug. 

"  Why,  I  thought  you  spent  several  weeks  last 
summer  with  him  at  Leskjewitsch's,"  says  Roh- 
ritz,  looking  at  her  in  surprise. 

Without  making  any  reply  to  this  remark,  Stella 
opens  and  shuts  her  fan,  and  says,  with  a  slight 
curl  of  her  lip,  "  His  heroic  opposition  seems 
overcome  at  last;  for,  as  I  learned  lately  from  a 
letter  from  Gratz,  he  has  just  been  betrothed  to  a 
certain  little  Countess  Strahlheim." 

"  Who  wrote  you  so  ?"  Therese  cries.  "  That 
interests  me  immensely !  Oh,  the  Machiavelli !" 

"I  had  the  intelligence  from  a  Fraulein  von 
Gurlichingen,"  says  Stella. 

"  Gurlichingen  ?  Anastasia  Gurlichingen  ?"  asks 
the  Baron. 

"  You  know  the  Gurlichingen  ?"  Stella  asks,  in 
her  turn. 

"Know  her!  Who  does  not  know  the  Gur- 
lichingen ?"  says  Rohritz.  "  She  is  the  most  rest- 


220  ERLACH  COURT. 

less  phantom  I  have  ever  encountered,  continually 
fluttering  to  and  fro  through  the  world,  always 
in  the  train  of  some  wealthy  friend  who  pays  her 
expenses.  It  has  been  her  specialty  hitherto  to 
sacrifice  herself  for  consumptive  ladies :  she  has 
haunted  Meran,  Cairo,  Corfu.  There  was  no  taint 
of  legacy-hunting  in  her  conduct, — heaven  forbid 
such  a  suspicion  !  Hm !  my  brother-in-law  Zino 
christened  her  the  turkey-buzzard.  If  you  owe 
your  piece  of  news  to  no  more  trustworthy  source 
of  information,  Baroness  Stella,  I  must  take  the 
liberty  of  doubting  its  correctness." 

"  You  know  she  is  in  Paris  ?  She  called  upon 
me  a  little  while  ago,  but  I  was  not  at  home,"  said 
Therese,  turning  to  Stella.  "  Have  you  any  idea 
whom  she  is  with  now  ?" 

"  "With  the  Princess  Oblonsky,"  Stella  replies. 

"With  the  Oblonsky?  Not  with  the  former 
von  Fohren  ?"  husband  and  wife  exclaim  simulta- 
neously. 

"  Certainly !" 

"  What  a  joke !— with  the  Oblonsky !" 

Therese  almost  chokes  with  laughter. 

It  is  ten  o'clock.  The  children  have  long  since 
disappeared  with  their  bonne ;  the  servant  has 
brought  in  the  tea-equipage.  There  is  a  pause  in 
the  conversation,  such  as  is  apt  to  ensue  when 
people  have  laughed  until  they  are  tired.  The 
Baron  puts  a  fresh  log'  on  the  fire  and  rakes  the 


PRINCE  ZINO  CAPITO.  221 

embers  together.  The  blaze  flames  and  crackles ; 
little  hovering  lights  and  shadows  dance  over  the 
old  golden-brown  leather  tapestries.  Suddenly  the 
door  opens,  and  unannounced,  with  the  sans  gene 
of  close  relationship,  a  young  man  enters  the  room, 
tall,  slender,  with  a  certain  attractive  audacity  ex- 
pressed in  the  lines  about  his  mouth  and  in  his 
eyes  which  puts  beyond  question  his  resemblance 
to  the  Olympian  dandy.  It  is  the  Apollo  of  modern 
drawing-room  dimensions,  the  Apollo  forty-four 
years  old,  already  a  little  gray  about  the  temples, 
with  a  wrinkle  or  two  at  the  corners  of  his  eyes, 
in  a  coat  of  Poole's,  a  gardenia  in  his  tyitton-hole, 
his  crush  hat  under  his  arm, — Prince  Zino  Capito ! 

"  Pray  present  me,"  he  says,  after  he  has  greeted 
his  sister,  and  Stella  also,  turning  towards  the 
Baroness. 

"  And  you  already  know  my  new  star?"  Therese 
exclaims,  in  surprise,  after  she  has  fulfilled  his  re- 
quest. 

The  Prince  looks  full  at  Stella,  with  a  look 
peculiar  to  himself, — a  look  in  which  admiration 
reaches  the  boundary  of  impertinence  without  cross- 
ing it, — then  says,  smiling, — 

"  CSJ,  Sasa!"  when  he  is  in  a  good  humour  he 
calls  his  sister  thus,  by  the  name  which  he  gave 
her  when  he  was  a  lisping  baby  in  the  nursery, — 
"  fa,  Sasa,  do  you  really  suppose  that  I  would  have 
rushed  back  from  Lyons  simply  on  the  strength  of 

19* 


222  ERLACH  COURT. 

the  enthusiastic  description  of  your  latest  trouvaille 
that  you  sent  me  in  your  note  of  invitation  ?  No, 
my  little  sister,  I  am  too  well  aware  of  your  liability 
to  acute  attacks  of  enthusiasm  not  to  receive  your 
brilliant  perorations  with  a  justifiable  mistrust.  I 
once  had -the  pleasure  of  seeing  Mademoiselle  very 
often,  for  a  while,"  he  continues,  speaking  French. 

"  Where  ?— when  ?"  asks  Therese. 

"  Three  years  ago,  in  Venice.  Baron  Meineck 
lived  at  the  Britannia,  where  I  also  lodged,  and 
Fraulein  Stella  came  to  Venice  to  take  care  of  him. 
— They  were  sad  days  for  you,"  he  says,  turning  to 
Stella,  very  gravely,  and  with  a  degree  of  cordiality 
which  he  can  impart  to  his  voice  when  he  chooses. 

"  And  yet  they  were  delightful  days  for  me  in 
spite  of  all,"  Stella  replies,  her  eyes  full  of  tears, 
and  turning  away  her  head. 

"  Most  certainly  you  can  look  back  to  that  time 
with  a  contented  heart,"  he  continues,  in  the  same 
sympathetic  tone.  "I  never  have  seen  a  daugh- 
ter-  "  Suddenly  he  notices  how  the  Baroness's 

glance  rests  upon  him,  and,  becoming  aware  of  the 
delicate  nature  of  the  situation,  he  finishes  his  sen- 
tence as  best  he  can  and  tries  to  change  the  subject. 
But  the  Baroness  has  lost  her  equanimity:  it  is 
always  intensely  painful  to  her  to  know  that  she 
recalls  to  strangers  the  fact  that  her  husband  in 
his  last  illness  was  obliged  to  forego  her  care; 
Capito's  words  are  like  a  reproof  to  her. 


PRINCE  ZINO  CAP1TO.  223 

"  Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  have  a  fiacre 
called  for  us  ?"  she  says,  turning  to  the  host. 

Resisting  all  entreaties  to  prolong  her  stay,  and 
to  take  another  cup  of  tea,  she  pleads  fatigue,  the 
necessity  of  rising  early,  and  so  forth.  When  Capito 
takes  leave  of  her  he  asks  permission  to  pay  his 
respects  to  the  ladies. 

But  the  Baroness  begs  him  to  give  himself  no  fur- 
ther trouble  with  regard  to  them,  as  she  is  scarcefy 
ever  at  home, — whereupon  she  vanishes  on  the  arm 
of  the  host,  and  the  Prince  twirls  his  moustache 
with  a  comical  grimace. 

"What  annoys  you,  Zino?"  Edmund  asks  on  his 
return  to  the  smoking-room ;  and  when  the  Prince 
enlightens  him  as  to  the  extent  of  his  lack  of  tact, 

*_?  * 

and  the  unfortunate  family  history  of  the  Meinecks, 
he  says, — 

"  I  really  do  not  see  why  Edgar  considered  it 
necessary  to  prepare  us  so  carefully  for  the  absurd- 
ities of  the  old  Baroness.  It  is  quite  possible  that 
she  drove  her  husband  distracted  with  her  learn- 
ing: nevertheless  in  ordinary  intercourse  she  is 
very  agreeable,  and  a  very  handsome  old  lady : 
she  must  have  been  handsomer  in,  her  time  than 
her  daughter." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  asks  Therese.  "To  me 
Stella  seems  charming." 

"  Elk  est  tout  b$tement  adorable,"  says  Zino  Capito, 
drinking  his  tea  out  of  the  Japanese  cup  his  sister 


224  ERLACH  COURT. 

has  just  handed  him.  "  How  good  your  tea  is, 
Sasa !  in  all  Paris  no  one  has  such  good  tea  as 
yours." 

"You  are  very  suspiciously  complimentary," 
Therese  rejoins.  "  What  do  you  want  me  to  do 
for  you  ?" 

"  Ask  me  to  dine  soon,  and  ask  the  Meinecks," 
Zino  replies,  with  his  attractively  audacious  smile. 

"  No,  I  will  not,"  Therese  says,  resolutely. 

"  Arid  why  not  ?" 

"  Because,  as  I  now  see,  you  would  do  all  that 
you  could  to  turn  Stella's  brain.  I  thought  you 
had  outgrown  such  foolish  tricks." 

"  Hm !"  says  Capito. 

"  I  am  going  to  do  all  that  I  can  to  marry  her 
well,"  Therese  declares. 

"  Hm !"  Capito  says  again,  but  in  a  different  tone. 

"  If  you  like,  I  will  invite  you  to  meet  the  Gur- 
lichingen ;  she  is  in  Paris  at  present." 

" Indeed !     With  whom  is  she  travelling? 

"With "  Therese  looks  full  at  him,  with 

mirth  in  her  eyes, — "  with  the  Oblonsky !" 

"  Ah !  Have  her  lungs  become  affected  lately  ?" 
Zino  asks,  indifferently. 

"Not  that  I  know  of;  but  she  probably  covets 
respectability,"  says  Therese. 

"  Ah,  tiens  I  cela  doit  tire,  drdle.  An  entire  change 
of  system  on  Stasy's  part,  then,"  says  Zino,  put- 
ting down  his  teacup,  and  rising. 


PRINCE  ZINO   CAP1TO.  225 

"  She  seems  to  have  abandoned  the  lucrative 
calling  of  a  turkey-buzzard,"  Rohritz  remarks. 

"  Yes,  and  instead  to  have  opened  a  laundry  for 
the  purification  of — caps  which  have  fallen  among 
— among  nettles,  in  the  vicinity  of  mills.*  Not  a 
bad  trade, — hm  !" 

"  Going  already,  Zino  ?" 

"  Of  course,"  says  Zino,  stretching  himself  and 
yawning  as  spoiled  brothers  allow  themselves  to  do 
in  presence  of  their  sisters.  "  If  you  suppose  I 
tore  myself  away  from  Lyons  to  drink  tea  with  you, 
you  are  mistaken.  Be  good,  Sasa:  when  will  you 
invite  the  Meineeks  and  myself  to  dine  ?" 

Therese,  moving  her  forefinger  to  and  fro  before 
her  face,  makes  the  Roman  gesture  of  refusal. 

"  Oh,  very  well ;  as  you  please,"  Zino  mutters  in 
an  ill-humour.  "Good-evening."  "I  wonder  where 
I  could  meet  her,"  he  says,  musingly,  before 
lighting  his  cigar  in  the  coupe  that  awaits  him. 

"  Strange  !"  Rohritz  remarks  to  his  wife ;  "  Ed- 
gar described  the  young  Meineck  to  me  as  particu- 
larly gay  and  amusing." 

"  Indeed  ?" 

"  Now,  for  so  young  a  creature,  she  seems  to  me 
particularly  quiet." 

"  What  would  you  have  ?  Punchinello  himself 
would  grow  melancholy  with  such  a  life  as  hers." 

*  A  play  upon   the  French   proverb,  '  jeter  son  bonnet  par' 
dessus  le  moulin,'  as  much  as  to  say  '  to  lose  one's  reputation.' 
P 


226  ERLACH  COURT. 

Her  husband  reflects  for  a  few  moments.  After 
'  a  while  he  says,  "  I  wonder  whether,  after  all,  she 
was  not  a  little  smitten  with  Edgar  ?" 

"Upon  what  do  you  base  your  conjecture?" 
Therese  asks,  in  astonishment. 

"  She  put  on  so  extraordinarily  indifferent  an 
expression  whenever  he  was  mentioned." 

Therese  laughs  aloud. 

"  What  is  there  to  laugh  at  V*  her  husband  asks, 
rather  crossly. 

"  Forgive  me,  but  you  remind  me  of  the  French- 
man who  proposed  to  a  young  lady  through  her 
mother,  and  when  he  was  asked  by  her  what  reason 
he  had  to  suppose  that  her  daughter  liked  him, 
replied,  'I  am  quite  sure  of  it,  for  she  always 
leaves  the  room  as  soon  as  I  enter  it.' ' 

"Laugh  away;  we  shall  soon  see  who  is  right. 
Moreover,  Edgar  must  take  some  interest  in  her, 
or  he  would  not  have  -recommended  her  to  us  so 
warmly,"  replies  Rohritz. 

"  Bah !  he  recommended  her  to  us  at  the  express 
request  of  our  common  friend  Leskjewitsch,"  his 
wife  rejoins. 

"True;  but " 

"  She  is  a  child  in  comparison  with  him.  He 
might  be  her  father." 

Edmund  is  silent  for  a  while,  and  then  says, 
"That  is  true;  she  is  a  child, — and  he  is  very 
sensible." 


A   MUSIC-LESSON.  227 

CHAPTER   XXIV. 

A   MUSIC-LESSON. 

FOLLOWING  the  advice  of  the  little  Italian  con- 
ductor of  the  orchestra,  Stella  refers  to  him  in  or- 
der to  procure  more  reasonable  terms  from  Signor 
della  Seggiola  for  her  singing-lessons. 

These  '  more  reasonable  terms'  are  twenty-five 
francs  for  an  hour  abbreviated  at  both  ends,  and 
sixty  francs  a  month  for  a  share  in  the  singing- 
class, — that  is,  in  the  musical  dissertations  which 
Signor  della  Seggiola  holds  three  times  a  week  for 
six  or  seven  pupils  in  a  small  room  in  the  Gerard 
piano-building. 

For  the  sake  of  those  who  consider  twenty-five 
francs  an  hour  a  tolerably  high  price  for  lessons, 
and  who  are  inclined  to  regard  the  leader's  recom- 
mendation as  a  humbug,  it  may  be  well  to  state 
that  twenty-five  francs  is  really  a  lowered  price, 
and  that  dilettanti  usually  pay  from  thirty  to  thirty- 
five  francs  for  a  private  lesson  from  della  Seggiola. 

It  is  with  the  maestro's  wife  that  Stella  makes 
the  business  arrangement,  since  della  Seggiola  him- 
self— an  artist,  an  idealist,  a  child — understands 
nothing  about  money.  He  evidently  labours  under 
the  delusion  that  he  gives  the  lessons  for  nothing, 


228  ERLACH  COURT. 

since  he  does  not  take  the  slightest  pains  to  give 
his  scholars  an  honest  equivalent  in  valuable  in- 
struction for  their  twenty-five,  thirty,  or  thirty-five 
francs. 

As  we  already  know,  Stella  is  tolerably  fa- 
miliar with  the  singing-teachers  of  many  lands  :  she 
knows  that,  as  is  the  case  also  with  dentists,  they 
all  abuse  one  another  and  testify  the  same  horror  at 
the  misdeeds  of  their  predecessors,  declaring  with 
the  same  tragic  shake  of  the  head  that  it  will  be 
necessary  to  begin  with  the  A,  B,  C, — that  is,  with 
Concone's  solfeggi, — and  that  it  is  indispensable  for 
the  scholar  that  she  should  procure  the  work  upon 
the  art  of  singing  with  which  the  new  teacher,  as 
well  as  his  predecessor,  has  enriched  musical  lit- 
erature. Stella  already  possesses  five  exhaustive 
works  upon  the  'Bel  Canto,'  'L'Artlyrique,'  'L'Art 
du  Chant,'  and  so  forth ;  each  cost  twenty  francs 
and  contains  a  more  or  less  valuable  collection  of 
solfeggi.  Some  of  these  volumes  are  adorned  with 
the  portrait  of  the  author,  others  have  prefaces  in 
which  some  famous  man,  such  as  Rossini,  for  ex- 
ample, recommends  the  work  to  the  public  as 
something  extraordinary,  something  destined  by  its 
intrinsic  merit  to  outlast  the  Pyramids. 

Delia  Seggiola's  work  differs  from  all  these 
clumsy  compositions.  Adorned  neither  with  the 
portrait  of  the  author  nor  with  a  preface  by  a  de- 
lebrity,  it  displays  upon  its  first  page  the  profile  of 


A   MUSIC-LESSON,  229 

a  human  being  cut  in  half, — an  imposing  proof  of 
the  maestro's  anatomical  knowledge,  as  well  as  of 
his  close  study  of  the  physical  conditions  of  a  true 
training  of  the  voice. 

The  large  and  magnificently-bound  volume  con- 
tains no  series  of  solfeggi,  but  simply  some  scanty, 
musically  impossible  fiorituri,  or  musical  examples 
borrowed  from  other  works,  which  swim  like  little 
islands  in  an  ocean  of  text.  As  Signora  della 
Seggiola  expresses  herself,  her  husband's  volume  is 
no  compilation  of  senseless  solfeggi,  but  a  Bible  for 
the  lovers  of  song. 

A  Bible  for  those  who  believe  in  della  Seggiola's 
infallibility. 

At  the  private  lessons — the  maestro  gives  these, 
of  course,  only  at  his  own  home — the  accompani- 
ments are  played  by  an  ambitious  young  musician 
who  has  once  been  with  Strakosch  on  a  tour ;  in 
the  class,  Fraulein  Fuhrwesen  accompanies,  her 
impresario  having  postponed  for  the  present  the 
concert  tour  in  South  America. 

Della  Seggiola  never  touches  the  piano  himself. 
He  is  a  broad-shouldered,  jolly  Italian,  with  a  big, 
kindly,  smiling  face,  and  a  black  velvet  cap. 

Without  ever  having  possessed  even  a  tolerably 
good  voice,  he  ranked  for  a  time  among  the  dis- 
tinguished singers  of  the  world.  His  fine  singing 
is,  however,  of  little  use  to  his  pupils. 

He  passes  the  time  of  the  lessons  chiefly  in  read- 
20 


230  ERLACH  COURT. 

ing  aloud  chapters  from  his  'Bible,'  while  the 
accompanist,  with  unflagging  enthusiasm,  praises 
the  wisdom  of  the  work;  then  the  pupil  sings  some 
trifle,  della  Seggiola  meanwhile  gazing  at  her  with 
a  solemn  air,  sometimes  grimacing  to  show  the 
position  of  the  lips,  or  tapping  alternately  her 
throat  and  her  chest,  exclaiming,  "  Ne  serrez  pas  /" 
or  "  Soutenez  !  soutenez  !"  Then  he  directs  the  pupil 
to  rest,  tells  something  funny,  clicks  with  his 
tongue,  throws  his  velvet  cap  into  the  air,  and — 
kling-a-ling-ling — Signora  della  Seggiola  gives  the 
signal  that  the  lesson  is  over. 

The  class  is  a  rather  more  serious  and  artistic 
affair  than  the  private  lessons,  from  the  fact  that 
there  are  no  different  prices  to  be  paid  here,  but 
that  every  one — with  the  exception  of  a  protege  of 
Signora  della  Seggiola's,  a  barytone  from  Florence, 
who  pays  nothing — pays  as  in  an  omnibus  the  same 
sixty  francs  a  month,  whether  the  class  consist  of 
thirty  or  only  three  persons. 

And  the  company  reminds  one  somewhat  of  an 
omnibus.  Against  the  background  of  usual  shab- 
biness  one  or  two  brilliant  social  stars  stand  forth, 
making  one  wonder  how  they  came  there.  It 
can  hardly  be  asserted  that  even  here  among  the 
disciples  of  della  Seggiola,  the  only  true  prophet 
of  his  art,  any  great  progress  in  singing  is  made. 
During  the  six  weeks  for  which  Stella  has  now 
belonged  to  the  class  it  has  been  singing  the  same 


A   MUSIC-LESSON.  231 

thing,  only  with  less  and  less  voice  ;  that  is  all  the 
difference. 

Condemned  by  the  formation  of  his  throat, 
which  is  extraordinarily  ill  adapted  to  song,  to 
spare  the  organ,  della  Seggiola  never  allows  one 
of  his  faithful  disciples  to  sing  one  natural,  healthy 
note,  hut  condemns  them  also  to  a  constant  mezzo- 
voce  which  cannot  but  contract  the  throat. 

Thus  artificially  restrained,  Stella's  warm  rich 
voice  diminishes  with  extraordinary  rapidity. 
When  she  complains  to  the  maestro  that  this  is  so, 
he  remarks  that  it  is  a  very  good  sign,  her  great 
fault  being  that  she  has  too  much  voice,  and  only 
when  she  has  lost  it  entirely  can  the  cultivation  of 
a  really  bel  canto  begin. 

This  astounding  assertion  gives  Stella  food  for 
reflection,  and  it  occurs  to  her  to-day  as  she  sits 
at  the  piano  preparing  for  the  class-lesson  and 
finds  that  two  of  her  notes  break  as  she  sings  the 
scale. 

"  Della  Seggiola  ought  to  be  pleased  with  my 
progress,"  she  says  to  herself,  with  some  bitterness, 
and  her  heart  beats  hard  as  the  constantly-recur- 
ring question  arises  in  her  mind,  "  If  I  should 

really  lose  my  voice ?  But  where  is  the  use  of 

thinking  of  it?"  she  answers  herself,  with  a  shrug. 
The  clock  on  the  chimney-piece,  the  one  with  the 
manchineel-tree,  strikes  a  quarter  of  ten.  "  It  is 
high  time  to  go,"  the  girl  says  aloud.  Slipping 


232  ERLACH  COURT. 

on  the  still  handsome  sealskin  jacket  which  her 
father  had  given  her  five  years  before  for  a  Christ- 
mas-present, she  hurries  along  the  various  thronged 
streets,  broad  and  narrow,  through  the  pale-yellow 
January  sunshine,  to  her  destination. 

The  *  hall'  in  the  Gerard  piano-warehouse,  Rue 
du  Mail,  where  della  Seggiola  holds  his  classes,  is 
hardly  more  spacious  than  an  ordinary  room  in  Ber- 
lin or  Vienna,  and,  being  partly  filled  with  pianos 
sewed  up  in  linen,  leaves  something  to  be  desired 
from  an  acoustic  point  of  view.  The  lesson  has 
already  begun  when  Stella  enters.  Fraulein  Fuhr- 
wesen,  in  her  tassel-bedecked  water-proof,  is  seated 
at  the  piano,  upon  the  lid  of  which  the  '  Bible' 
lies  open.  Della  Seggiola,  resting  his  right  hand 
upon  its  pages,  and  gesticulating  with  his  left,  is 
delivering  an  inspiring  discourse  upon  the  art  of 
song,  while  a  tall,  sallow  young  man,  with  very  little 
hair  upon  his  head,  but  all  the  more  upon  his  face, 
is  awaiting  with  ill-disguised  impatience  the  mo- 
ment when  he  can  burst  into  song. 

This  young  man's  name  is  Meyer  (pronounced 
Meyare) :  he  is  clerk  in  a  banking-house,  and  is 
studying  for  the  stage. 

A  second  barytone,  a  young  Italian,  is  also  wait- 
ing with  longing  for  his  turn.  He  is  the  star  of 
the  class,  a  Florentine,  who  has  wandered  to  Paris 
with  his  two  sisters,  who  regularly  come  to  the  class 
with  him.  They  are  sallow  and  elderly,  wear  very 


A   MUSIC-LESSOR.  233 

large  Hernbrandt  hats,  which,  as  they  privately  in- 
form Stella,  they  purchased  in  the  Temple,  sit  on 
each  side  of  their  brother,  and  keep  up  a  constant 
nod  of  encouragement. 

In  strict  seclusion  from  the  young  men,  and 
guarded  by  a  gray-haired  duenna,  across  whose 
threadbare  brown  sacque  she  gaily  ogles  the  bary- 
tone from  Florence,  sits  a  dishevelled  little  soprano, 
the  daughter  of  a  diva  and  a  journalist. 

Of  course  she  has  no  idea  of  going  on  the  stage ; 
she  speaks  with  horror  of  the  theatre,  and  thinks  a 
dramatic  career  not  at  all  comme  il  faut. 

An  elderly  Englishwoman,  quite  copper-coloured, 
with  very  long  teeth  and  the  figure  of  a  tallow  dip, 
seems  to  be  of  a  different  opinion.  She  is  just 
confessing  in  very  problematical  French  to  the 
barytone  from  Florence  how  much  she  repents  not 
having  voice  enough  ' pour  remplir  un  opera,'  and 
her  eyes  fill  with  tears. 

Natalie  Lipinski  has  not  yet  arrived. 

With  a  pleasant  greeting  to  the  two  sisters  of 
the  barytone,  and  to  the  crazy  Miss  Frazer,  Stella 
passes  as  quietly  as  possible  to  her  place. 

After  della  Seggiola  has  ended  his  discourse, 
and  Monsieur  Meyare  has  finished  his  *  Dolcessi 
perduti,'  Miss  Frazer  sings  the  waltz  from  '  Tra- 
viata'  transposed  a  fifth  lower  than  the  original  key, 
breathing  very  loud,  and  singing  very  low.  In 
the  middle  of  it  she  stops  short,  lays  her  red  hand, 

20* 


234  ERLACH  COURT. 

covered  to  the  knuckles  with  a  knitted  wristlet, 
upon  her  heart,  and  sighs. 

"  "What  is  it?"  asks  della  Seggiola,  not  without 
a  certain  impatience.  "  What  is  the  matter  ?" 

"  This  aria  is  so  deeply  affecting,"  sighs  the  Eng- 
lishwoman ;  "  it  always  gives  me  palpitation  of  the 
heart." 

"  That  is  very  unfortunate,"  says  della  Seggiola, 
taking  a  pinch  of  snuff.  "  Pray  consult  a  physi- 
cian; he  will  prescribe  digitalis." 

"  Oh,  the  doctor  could  not  help  me,"  Miss  Frazer 
asserts,  wagging  her  head  to  and  fro  with  enthu- 
siasm. "My  nervous  system  is  too  highly  strung. 
If  my  voice  were  only  stronger  I  should  certainly 
have  a  succh  upon  the  stage, — parce  que  je  suis 
trts-passionnee." 

Della  Seggiola  bites  his  lip.  At  this  moment  the 
door  opens,  Natalie  Lipinski  enters,  and  behind  her 
— Stella  can  hardly  believe  her  eyes — Zino  Capito ! 

"  Permit  me  to  present  to  you  my  cousin,  Prince 
Capito,  Signer  della  Seggiola,"  says  Natalie,  in 
her  fluent  but  hard-sounding  Russian-French. 
"He  hopes  to  be  allowed  to  profit  by  your  instruc- 
tions." 

Of  course  the  lesson  is  interrupted.  Miss  Fra- 
zer's  eyes,  which  always  remind  one  more  or  less  of 
a  melancholy-minded  rabbit,  and  which  now  wear 
a  very  sympathetic  air,  rest  with  benevolence  upon 
the  Prince,  who  offers  della  Seggiola  his  hand  witli 


A   MUSIC-LESSON.  235 

the  aplomb  for  which  he  is  justly  celebrated 
throughout  Europe,  hurriedly  thanks  him  for  the 
great  pleasure  he  has  given  him  by  his  art,  and 
prays  beforehand  for  indulgence  and  patience,  since 
he  is,  as  he  maintains,  a  beginner, — only  a  beginner. 

Natalie  conscientiously  presents  him  to  the  class, 
blundering,  of  course,  with  all  the  names. 

He  bows  stiffly,  looks  directly  over  the  gentle- 
men's heads,  scans  the  ladies  with  a  curious  glance, 
and  then  goes  directly  to  Stella,  beside  whom  he 
takes  his  place,  after  bowing  to  her  with  the  most 
attractive  mixture  of  courtesy  and  deference.  With- 
out being  deterred  by  Miss  Frazer's  starting  off 
with  her  transposed  song  and  getting  through  as 
much  of  it  as  asthma  and  palpitation  of  the  heart 
will  permit,  he  begins  : 

"I  made  an  attempt  to  see  you  the  day  after 
meeting  you  at  my  sister's,  but,  unfortunately,  in 
vain.  Did  you  get  my  card  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  I  was  so  very  sorry  not  to  find  the  ladies  at 
home.  Might  I  be  admitted  some  evening  ?" 

"I  will  ask  mamma;  but " 

"  And  how  have  you  amused  yourself  mean- 
while?" 

"  Oh,  I  have  been  very  gay  this  week ;  Madame 
de  Rohritz  took  me  with  her  once  to  the  theatre 
and  once  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne." 

"  And  when  Therese  does  not  take  you  out  a 


236  ERLACH  COURT. 

little  do  you  devote  your  entire  time  to  historical 
studies  and  to  your  singing?" 

"  Sometimes  I  sit  about  in  the  Tuileries,— I  have 
made  the  acquaintance  of  an  old  governess,  who 
chaperons  me, — and  sometimes  I  go  to  the  Louvre, 
which  I  know  as  perfectly  as  ever  a  guide  in  Paris." 

Is  it  by  mere  chance  that  just  at  this  point  of  the 
conversation,  which  is  carried  on  in  an  undertone, 
Fraulein  Fuhrwesen  turns  and  stares  at  the  Prince 
and  Stella  ? 

Meanwhile,  it  is  Natalie's  turn  to  sing.  Her 
song  is  the  grand  cavatina  from  '  I  Puritani,'  '  Qui 
la  voce  sua  soave  /J 

Natalie  is  an  odd  little  person,  short,  slender, 
undeveloped  as  to  figure,  with  a  face  rather  too 
sallow,  but  with  regular  delicate  features  and  daz- 
zling teeth.  "With  a  fanatical  enthusiasm  for  art 
and  a  determination  to  go  upon  the  stage  she  com- 
bines a  fortune  of  some  millions  of  roubles,  and, 
what  is  in  still  more  comical  contrast  with  her 
proposed  career,  a  strict  unbending  sense  of  pro- 
priety, far  transcending  the  prudery  of  the  most 
English  of  Englishwomen, — not  that  shy  sense  of 
propriety  which  is  always  on  the  defensive,  but  that 
which  is  quick  to  look  down  with  aggressive  con- 
tempt upon  any  infringement  of  the  rules  of 
decorum. 

Too  well  bred  to  speak  when  a  lady  whom  he 
knows,  were  she  a  hundred  times  his  cousin,  is  sing- 


A  MUSIC-LESSON.  237 

ing,  Zino  listens  with  exemplary  attention  to  the 
Bellini  cavatina,  not  indeed  without  a  merry 
twinkle  of  the  eye  now  and  then. 

Natalie's  voice  is  rather  shrill,  her  Italian  accent 
harsh;  her  rendering  of  the  impassioned  aria  is 
strictly  confined  to  following  the  musical  directions, 
p.p.,  cresc.,  ritard.,  and  so  forth;  even  at  the  point 
where  the  inspiration  of  the  love-stricken  Elvira 
culminates  in  the  words  '  Vien'  ti  posa — vien'  ti  posa 
sul  mio  cor!'  she  never  ceases  to  beat  the  time 
with  her  right  hand. 

After  this  hrilliant  outburst  della  Seggiola  inter- 
rupts her.  The  Fuhrwesen  lifts  her  hands  from  the 
keys,  and  Natalie  looks  inquiringly  at  the  maestro, 
who  takes  a  pinch  of  snuff  and  shakes  his  head. 

"  Trh-bien,  mon  enfant," — it  is  needless  to  say  that 
this  familiar  address  is  very  little  to  the  taste  of 
the  haughty  Russian, — "  tr&s-bien,  mon  enfant;  you 
sing  in  excellent  time,  but  you  must  try  to  infuse 
animation  into  your  style.  Fancy  the  situation, — 
half  crazy  with  love  and  longing,  you  are  calling 
out  into  the  night, '  Ah,  come — come  to  my  heart !' 
You  must  sing  that  with — how  shall  I  express  it? — 
with  more  conviction,  thus :" 

The  Fuhrwesen  drums  the  accompaniment,  and 
della  Seggiola,  stretching  out  his  arms  like  angels' 
wings,  throws  back  his  head  a  little,  and  warbles, 
4  Qui  la  voce  /' 

Estimate  as  you  please  his  method  of  instruction, 


238  ERLACH  COURT. 

all  who  still  find  delight  in  the  old  Italian  tradi- 
tions must  admit  his  art  in  singing. 

And  Prince  Zino — a  musical  Epicurean  to  his 
finger-tips,  rejecting  everything  clumsy  and  indi- 
gestible in  music, — Prince  Zino,  for  whom  Mozart 
is  the  only  god  of  music  and  Rossini  is  his 
prophet — strokes  his  moustache,  delighted,  and 
calls  "  Bravo !"  and  della  Seggiola  bows. 

The  lesson  continues  to  be  quite  interesting. 

Signor  Trevisiani,  the  barytone  from  Florence, 
sings  something  very  depressing,  with  the  refrain, — 

'  ]^Ialadetto  sulla  terra, 
Condannato  nel  ceil  sard.' 

The  little  soprano  sings,  *  Plaisir  d'amour,'  and  Zino 
perfectly,  gravely,  goes  through  a  scale,  swelling 
the  notes,  during  which  two  sad  facts  are  brought 
to  light, — first,  that  he  is  the  third  barytone  in  the 
class, — della  Seggiola  had  hoped  for  a  tenor, — and, 
secondly,  that  he  cannot  read  by  note.  Delia  Seg- 
giola, however,  praises  the  charming  timbre  of  his 
voice,  and  asks  if  he  may  not  send  him  a  teacher 
to  correct  his  defective  reading ;  whereupon  Frau- 
lein  Fuhrwesen  declares  herself  ready  to  give  the 
Prince  lessons.  He  pretends  not  to  hear  this 
heroic  proposition,  seeming  not  even  to  perceive 
her;  whereby  he  makes  a  mortal  enemy  of  that 
extremely  sensitive  and  irritable  person. 

The  glory  of  the  class  is  the  closing  performance, 


A   MUSIC-LESSON.  239 

— the  famous  duet  between  Don  Giovanni  and  Zer- 
lina,  rendered  by  Signor  Trevisiani  and  Natalie 
Lipinski. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  imagine  a  more  lugubri- 
ous Don  Giovanni  than  the  young  man  from  Flor- 
ence. He  is  freshly  shaven,  perhaps  in  honour  of 
his  part ;  his  cheeks  are  covered  with  red  scratches, 
like  those  of  a  German  youth  who  bears  about  in 
his  face  the  record  of  his  bravery ;  his  hair,  artis- 
tically dishevelled  about  his  forehead  and  ears,  falls 
over  his  coat-collar  at  the  back  of  his  neck.  Ex- 
cept for  a  grass-green  cravat,  he  is  dressed  entirely 
in  black,  like  the  page  in 'Marlbrook;'  his  cos- 
tume, evidently  provincial,  comes  from  the  same 
quarter  of  Paris  that  has  produced  his  sisters' 
hats, — the  Temple. 

Much  intimidated  by  his  haughty  Zerlina,  his 
throat  contracts  so  that  his  voice,  naturally  fine  and 
resonant,  comes  from  his  dry  lips  hoarse  and  mis- 
erably thready.  Although  Natalie  sings,  as  ever, 
in  faultless  time,  the  notes  that  should  be  in 
unison  are  far  from  sounding  so,  whereupon  della 
Seggiola  advises  the  singers  to  take  each  other's 

00       , 

hands.  Mademoiselle  Lipinski  edges  away  still 
farther  from  her  Don  Giovanni,  and  extends  to  him 
her  finger-tips. 

Della  Seggiola  makes  them  repeat  the  duo  three 
times,  does  his  best  to  make  it  go  smoothly,  gently 
entreats  Zerlina  to  be  more  coquettish,  orders  Dou 


240  ERLACH  COURT. 

Giovanni  to  be  more  seductive.  In  vain.  Zerlina 
draws  down  the  corners  of  her  mouth  and  looks  at 
the  wall ;  Don  Giovanni  scratches  his  ear.  The  duo 
Bounds  worse  and  worse.  Much  irritated  at  this 
melancholy  result,  which  she  ascribes  entirely  to 
Signer  Trevisiani's  awkwardness,  Natalie  at  last 
says  crossly  to  the  young  Florentine,  "  I  beg  you 
not  to  torment  me  any  more  :  it  will  never  do !" 
Then  across  her  shoulder  to  her  cousin  she  ex- 
plains, impatiently,  "  Zino,  Signer  Trevisiani  is 
hoarse ;  you  and  I  used  to  sing  the  duo  together. 
Come,  try  it." 

"  If  there  is  time,"  Zino  says,  with  amiable  readi- 
ness, taking  his  place  beside  his  cousin. 

There  is  really  no  time  for  it,  as  della  Seggrola 
would  have  informed  any  one  save  the  Prince. 
Twelve  o'clock  has  struck,  but  he  does  not  men- 
tion that  fact  to  Zino.  Hungry  and  resigned,  he 
sits  down  beside  the  piano,  his  hands  clasped  upon 
his  stomach,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  tips  of  his 
boots  stretched  out  before  him,  prepared  to  endure 
the  blessed  duo  for  the  fourth  time.  But  what  is 
this  ?  He  listens  eagerly,  all  present  listen,  all  eyes 
are  riveted  upon  the  Prince,  from  whose  lips  there 
flows  such  melody  as  we  expect  only  from  the 
greatest  Italian  singers. 

Without  paying  any  further  attention  to  Zerlina, 
della  Seggiola  inquires  at  the  close  of  the  duo, — 

"  Do  you  sing  the  serenade  also  ?" 


A   MUSIC-LESSON.  241 

"  A  peu  pres,"  says  Zino,  whereupon  the  Fuhr- 
wesen  strikes  the  first  notes  of  the  accompaniment, 
and  he  sings  it. 

The  singers  of  the  new  high-art  school,  the  in- 
terpreters of  "Wagner,  curse  out  the  notes  at  their 
auditors ;  Prince  Zino  smiles  them  at  his  hearers, 
and  the  strong  infusion  of  irony  in  his  smile  only 
heightens  the  effect  of  his  style. 

Erect  but  unstudied  in  attitude,  his  hands  in  the 
pockets  of  his  jacket,  his  head  slightly  thrown 
back,  he  is  the  veritable  personification  of  the  gay, 
thoughtless  bon-vivant,  Mozart's  Don  Giovanni  as 
the  master  created  him. 

As  he  ends,  Miss  Frazer,  bathed  in  tears,  rushes 
up  to  him  with  both  hands  held  out,  exclaiming, 
"  Merci!  merci!" 

Stella,  laughing,  claps  applause,  and  Signer 
Trevisiani  gazes  at  him  as  if  he  longed  to  learn 
his  art.  But  dell  a  Seggiola  asks, — 

"  Where  did  you  learn  to  sing,  mon  Prince  ?" 

"  Everywhere." 

"  From  whom  ?" 

"  From  no  one." 

"  That's  right !"  exclaims  Seggiola,  forgetting 
all  humbug  in  genuine  artistic  enthusiasm.  "  For, 
between  ourselves  be  it  said,  singing  is  never 
taught." 

And  when  the  Prince  laughs,  and  hopes  on  the 
contrary  to  profit  much  from  the  art  of  the  maes- 

L          q  21 


242  ERLACH  COURT. 

tro,  the  latter  replies,  with  the  inborn  courtesy  of 
his  nation, — 

"  If  you  will  kindly  help  me  to  reveal  to  my 
class  here  the  beauty  of  song,  you  shall  always  be 

welcome,  mon  Prince.     I  can  teach  you  nothing." 
*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

The  lesson  is  over.  Zino  helps  Stella  and  his 
cousin  to  put  on  their  wraps,  takes  leave  of  della 
Seggiola  with  his  brilliant  smile  and  cordial  press- 
ure of  the  hand,  of  the  rest  with  a  very  brief  nod, 
and  leaves  the  room  with  his  two  special  ladies. 

"  A  charming  man,  that  Principe  Capito,"  says 
della  Seggiola,  rubbing  his  hands  delightedly. 
"  And  he  can  sing  like  Mario  in  his  best  days. 
I  used  to  give  his  sister  lessons." 

"  I  have  met  him  before  in  Vienna,"  Fraulein 
Fuhrwesen  mutters.  "  He  is  an  Italian,  to  be  sure, 
but  his  arrogance  he  learned  in  Austria." 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

A   NEW   ACQUAINTANCE? 

THE  lesson  at  an  end,  the  members  of  della 
Seggiola's  class  have  no  more  acquaintance  with 
one  another  than  have  people  who  have  travelled 
together  by  railway  after  they  have  left  the  train. 
The  soprano  with  her  slovenly  duenna  in  a  long 


A  NEW  ACQUAINTANCE?  243 

French  cachemire  shawl,  the  Italian  with  his  two 
sisters,  one  on  each  arm,  all  fly  apart  like  bits  of 
lead  from  an  exploding  shell. 

A  saucy  smile  about  his  mouth,  Capito  walks 
beside  the  two  girls ;  he  softly  hums  to  himself 
'  La  d  darem  la  mano  /' 

"  You  sang  well,  Zino,"  Natalie  remarks,  after 
a  while.  "  Delia  Seggiola  was  absolutely  enthusi- 
astic." 

"  "What  good  did  it  do  me  ?"  says  Zino,  shrugging 
his  shoulders.  "  It  gave  him  a  reason  for  politely 
turning  me  away." 

"  He  was  afraid  you  might  agitate  Miss  Frazer : 
she  suffers  already  from  her  heart,"  Stella  says, 
with  her  usual  audacity  in  alluding  to  uncomfortable 
topics. 

"  On  the  whole,  della  Seggiola  was  right,"  Natalie 
declares :  "  it  would  not  have  been  becoming  for 
you  to  join  the  class." 

"  'Tis  odd  how  often  the  pleasantest  things  in 
this  world  are  unbecoming,"  Zino  murmurs. 

"  Do  you  really  think  it  would  have  been  so  very 
pleasant  to  hear  us  practising  away  at  the  same 
things  twice  a  week  ?"  Stella  asks,  gaily. 

"Without  giving  him  time  to  reply,  Natalie  begins 
to  cross-examine  him  upon  his  impressions  of  della 
Seggiola's  method  of  instruction. 

"What  do  you  think  of  him  as  a  teacher?"  she 
asks. 


244  ERLACH  COURT. 

"  He  sings  delightfully,"  Zino  replies,  somewhat 
vaguely. 

"  Yes,  but  he  is  too  lax  as  a  teacher ;  he  is  not 
strict  enough, — does  not  suit  to  their  capacity  the 
tasks  he  imposes  upon  his  pupils." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  says  Zino.  "On  the  con- 
trary, I  thought  he  exacted  far  too  much  of  his- 
scholars'  capacity." 

"  How  so  ?"  Natalie  asks,  rather  offended. 

"  He  required  you  to  be  coquettish,  and  that 
fellow — what  was  his  name  ? — Trappenti — to  be  se- 
ductive. Rather  too  difficult  a  task  for  both  of 
you,  I  should  think,"  says  the  Prince. 

Natalie  frowns : 

"  I  thought  della  Seggiola's  remarks  to-day 
highly  unbecoming." 

"  Of  course,  when  you  were  singing  a  love-song, 
to  require  you  to  imagine  yourself  in  the  place  of 
the  singer, — c'est  de  la  derniere  inconvenance.  More- 
over, it  was  exacting  more  than  you  were  capable 
of  performing, — that  is,  so  far  as  I  know."  And, 
with  a  quick  turn  of  the  conversation  which  would 
be  quite  inexcusable  in  any  one  else,  he  looks  her 
in  the  face,  and  asks  with  a  light  laugh,  as  if  the 
question  concerned  something  infinitely  comical, 
"  Do  tell  us, — it  will  interest  Baroness  Stella  too, 
I  am  sure, — you  are  twenty-five  years  old " 

"  Twenty-six,"  Natalie  corrects  him. 

"  Twenty-six,  then.     Were  you  ever  in  love  ?" 


A  NEW  ACQUAINTANCE?  245 

To  the  Prince's  no  small  surprise,  Natalie  turns 
away  her  head  at  this  question,  and,  blushing  to 
the  very  roots  of  her  hair,  mutters  angrily  between 
her  set  teeth,  "  You  are  intolerable  to-day  !" 

"  Ah,  indeed  !"  says  Prince  Zino,  with  a  merry 
twinkle  of  his  eyes.  "  It  must  be  with  one  of  the 
lithographic  portraits  hanging  in  the  corridor  in 
your  home  at  Jekaterinovskoe, — Orlow,  or  Potem- 
kin.  By  the  way,  'tis  a  great  pity  you  blush  so 
seldom,  Natalie :  it  becomes  you  charmingly." 

At  the  next  street-corner  Stella's  and  Natalie's 
ways  separate,  to  the  great  vexation  of  the  Prince, 
seeing  that  he  too  must  of  course  take  his  leave 
of  the  beautiful  Austrian.  But,  if  he  can  no 
longer  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  talking  with  Stella, 
he  resolves  to  please  himself  by  still  keeping  her 
in  sight.  Instead  of  remaining  with  his  cousin 
and  quietly  going  his  own  way,  he  decides  to  walk 
along  the  same  street  with  Stella,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  way. 

Natalie,  who  understands  his  little  manoeuvre 
perfectly,  looks  after  him  before  turning  her 
corner,  and  shakes  her  head.  "  I  wonder  how 
many  times  he  has  been  in  love  before  ?"  she 
thinks.  "Poor  little  star!  she  is  very  pretty.  I 
trust  she  may  be  more  sensible  than  I." 

Meanwhile,  Zino  and  Stella  walk  leisurely  along 
on  opposite  sides  of  the  Rue  des  Petits-Champs. 

"  How  well  she  walks  !  what  a  fine  carriage  she 
21* 


246  ERLACH  COURT. 

has !"  he  murmurs,  never  losing  sight  of  her.  "  Her 
movements  have  such  an  easy  grace,  and  now  and 
then  a  dreamy,  gliding  rhythm  about  them;  'tis 
music  for  the  eyes.  And  then  such  colour, — the 
fair  face  with  its  black  eyes  and  red  lips,  the  gold 
of  the  hair  setting  off  the  exquisite  glow  of  the 
complexion, — she  is  enchanting  !" 

Zino  is  one  of  those  men  whose  sensuality  is  re- 
fined and  idealized  by  the  admixture  of  a  purely 
artistic  and  aesthetic  appreciation  of  the  beautiful. 
The  worship  of  the  beautiful  is,  as  he  is  fond  of 
declaring,  his  own  special,  private  religion;  the 
paroxysms  of  enthusiasm  which  this  worship  was 
apt  to  cause  in  him  in  former  years  have  long  since 
grown  rarer  and  rarer.  But  to-day  he  is  distinctly 
conscious  of  the  slow  approach  of  an  attack. 

"  Bah !  it  will  pass  away,"  he  says  to  himself, 
"  as  all  such  attacks  do ;  it  can  lead  to  nothing. 
But  all  the  same  she  is  bewitching  !" 

Thus  both  go  their  ways, — he  with  his  eyes, 
quite  intoxicated  with  beauty,  riveted  upon  her 
face  and  figure, — she,  as  he  is  rather  annoyed  to 
perceive,  so  absorbed  in  her  own  thoughts  as  to  be 
utterly  oblivious  of  his  vicinity.  Between  them, 
around  them,  swarms  Parisian  life,  with  its  bustle 
and  noise;  on  the  pavements  pass  neat  grisettes 
by  twos  and  threes,  their  smooth  hair  uncovered, 
either  coming  from  or  going  to  breakfast,  men 
with  dirty  grayish-white  blouses,  servant-girls  in 


A  NEW  ACq UA1NTA NCE ?  247 

white  caps,  Englishwomen  with  long  teeth,  and 
Parisians  of  all  kinds,  recklessly  pressing  on  to- 
wards some  aim  known  to  themselves  only  ;  in  the 
middle  of  the  street  there  is  a  hurly-burly  of  every 
kind  of  vehicle,  from  little  hand-carts,  laden  with 
tish,  flowers,  oranges,  or  vegetables,  and  pushed  by 
women  with  bent  backs,  to  omnibuses  as  big  as 
small  houses,  their  tops  reaching  above  the  shop- 
windows,  and  dragged  with  difficulty  by  the 
strongest  horses.  Here  and  there  some  one  is 
running  after  one  or  other  of  these  conveyances,  a 
breathless  day-governess,  helped  up  by  both  hands 
to  the  back  platform  by  the  conductor,  or  a  notary 
with  a  leather  wallet  under  his  arm,  who  climbs  to 
the  top  with  the  agility  of  a  monkey. 

These  tops  are  crowded.  Beside  respectable 
business-men  with  clean-shaved  cheeks  and  thick 
sausage-like  moustaches  are  seated  all  sorts  of  Bo- 
hemians, half-students,  half-artists,  pale  and  thin, 
with  meluncholy  eyes  in  faces  weary  with  cheap 
pleasures,  a  strange  and  genuinely  Parisian  species 
of  human  being,  always  eager  for  any  variety,  be  it 
a  ball  at  Bulliers  or  the  overthrow  of  a  govern- 
ment, a  restless,  excitable,  shallow,  sparkling  crowd, 
which  might  be  called  the  oxygen  of  Paris  in  con- 
trast with  its  hydrogen.  And  beside  the  huge  city 
omnibus  there  toil,  slowly,  heavily-laden  carts  to 
which  are  harnessed  long  trains  of  huge  white 
Norman  steeds,  with  blue  sheepskins  upon  their 


248  ERLACH  COURT. 

backs  and  bells  around  their  necks,  bells  which 
have  a  rustic  simple  sound  amid  all  the  demoniac 
clatter  of  Paris,  like  the  clear  voices  of  children 
heard  in  some  Bacchanalian  revel.  Tall,  sturdy 
Normans  in  white,  flapping  broad-brimmed  hats 
walk  beside  them,  shaking  their  heads  as  they  look 
down  upon  the  wealthy  degradation  and  the  sordid 
misery  of  the  filigree  population  of  Paris. 

The  January  sun  shines  above  it  all.  There  in 
the  fresh  cold  air  is  an  odour  of  oranges,  fish,  and 
flowers.  Stella  stops  beside  a  flower-cart  to  buy  a 
bunch  of  violets.  Zino  pauses  to  watch  her. 
Amid  the  noise  of  the  street  he  cannot  under- 
stand what  she  says,  but  through  the  roar  of  the 
mid-day  crowd,  the  loud  pulsation  of  the  great 
city  stronger  at  this  hour  than  at  any  other,  he 
distinguishes  brief  detached  notes  of  her  gentle 
bird-like  voice.  How  cordial  the  smile  she  has 
just  bestowed  upon  the  flowrer-girl ! 

"  If  she  smiled  at  me  like  that  I  should  give  her 
the  entire  cart-full  of  flowers.  I  wonder  if  I  might 
send  her  a  bouquet  to  the  '  Negroes  ? ' : 

Stella,  with  a  charming  shake  of  the  head,  has 
just  taken  out  her  purse,  when  a  lumbering  omni- 
bus interposes  between  her  and  Zino's  admiring 
gaze.  The  omnibus  is  followed  by  a  cart,  then  by 
another,  and  another.  At  last  the  view  is  once 
more  uninterrupted ;  but  where  is  Stella  ?  There 
she  stands,  pale,  agitated,  her  eyes  cast  down,  be- 


FIVE-O'CLOCK  TEA.  249 

side  a  tall,  thin,  consumptive-looking  woman  in 
shabby  black,  leading  by  the  hand  a  little  girl, — a 
woman  with  golden  hair,  and  features  in  which, 
pinched  and  worn  though  they  be  by  many  a 
bitter  experience,  a  striking  likeness  may  be  traced 
to  Stella's  beautiful  profile. 

"  Where  did  she  pick  up  that  acquaintance  ?"  the 
Prince  asks  himself;  but  before  he  can  decide 
where  and  when  he  has  seen  that  woman  before, 
Stella  and  the  stranger  have  vanished  in  a  little 
confectioner's  shop. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

FIVE-O'CLOCK  TEA. 

HOWEVER  recklessly  a  woman  may  have  trifled 
with  her  reputation  in  her  youth,  tossing  it  about 
as  a  thing  of  naught,  there  is  sure  to  come  a  time 
in  the  progress  of  years  when  the  first  wrinkle  ap- 
pears, and  instantly  a  careful  search  is  made  for 
the  lost  article.  Then  she  needs  a  friend  who  shall 
smooth  it  out  and  polish  it  up  and  return  it  to  her, 
— a  friend  who  believes  in  its  inherent  spotless- 
ness  and  will  do  her  best  to  convince  others  of  the 
same. 

This  oflice  Stasy  has  undertaken  to  perform  for 


250  ERLACH  COURT. 

the  Princess  Oblonsky.  And  what  is  to  be  her 
reward  for  her  efforts?  Delicious  food,  exquisite 
lodgings  and  service  in  apartments  fairy-like  in 
their  appointments,  numerous  presents,  and  alto- 
gether very  considerate  treatment,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  a  few  outbreaks  of  temper,  unavoidable  with 
such  women  as  the  Princess. 

From  all  which  it  may  be  clearly  perceived  that 
the  position  of  the  Oblonsky  is  far  from  being  as 
good  as  it  was  upon  her  husband's  death,  three 
years  ago,  or  she  would  scarcely  covet  at  so  high  a 
price  the  support  of  such  a  person  as  Anastasia. 

She  certainly  has  been  most  unfortunate, — poor 
Princess  Sophie.  When,  three  years  ago,  she  re- 
turned from  Petersburg  a  widow  and  possessed  of 
a  colossal  fortune,  she  hoped  to  obliterate  all  memo- 
ries of  former  irregularities  by  a  marriage  with 
Prince  Zino  Capito.  But  Zino  did  not  second  her 
views.  Two  months  after  the  death  of  the  Prince 
he  scarcely  spoke  to  her. 

It  was  during  the  following  winter  that  Sophie 
Oblonsky  committed  the  serious  *  imprudence'  by 
which  she  lost  forever  her  social  position.  At 
the  roulette-table  in  San  Carlo  she  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  a  young  Hungarian  who  was  pre- 
sented to  her  as  a  Comte  de  Bethenyi.  He  was 
young,  ardent,  wore  picturesque  fur  collars  and 
jackets  which  well  became  his  handsome  gypsy 
face,  flung  his  money  about  everywhere,  and  played 


FIVE-O'CLOCK  TEA.  251 

the  piano.  Sophie  Oblonsky  was  always  sensitive 
to  music.  The  picturesque  Hungarian  inspired 
her  with  an  interest  such  as  none  but  a  disappointed 
woman  of  forty  can  experience.  In  dread  of  com- 
promising herself,  she  consented  to  marry  him,  and 
they  were  betrothed,  whereupon  suddenly  various 
Esterhazys  and  Zichys  of  her  acquaintance  ap- 
peared at  San  Carlo,  and  in  the  casino  of  the  place 
met  the  Princess  upon  her  lover's  arm,  bowed  to 
her,  and  honoured  her  companion  with  a  very  odd 
stare.  After  they  had  passed,  Sophie  heard  them 
laugh. 

In  an  hour  all  Monaco  knew  that  the  Princess 
Oblonsky  had  betrothed  herself  to  a  fencing-master 
from  Klausenburg,  who  shortly  before  had  won  a 
prize  of  ten  thousand  marks  in  the  Saxon  lottery. 
That  same  evening  Caspar  Bethenyi  risked  his  last 
thousand  francs  on  number  twenty-nine, — perhaps 
because  the  twenty-ninth  of  January  was  his  birth- 
day,— and  lost.  The  following  night  he  put  a  bullet 
through  his  brains. 

The  correspondent  of 4  Figaro'  wrote  an  amusing 
article  upon  the  episode,  and  the  Princess  Ob- 
lonsky was  henceforth  impossible  :  she  had  made 
herself  ridiculous. 

The  world  found  the  affair  extremely  comical, — 
so  comical  that  there  was  a  strong  admixture  of  con- 
tempt even  in  the  compassion  accorded  to  the  poor 
fencing-master,  who  had  signed  his  name  simply 


252  ERLACH  COURT. 

Caspar  Bethenyi  in  the  strangers'  book,  and  who, 
it  was  afterwards  discovered,  had  accepted  rather 
unwillingly  the  rank  hestowed  upon  him  by  waiters 
and  journalists. 

Since  this  had  occurred,  two  years  before,  the 
Oblonsky  had  tried  in  vain  to  regain  a  footing  in 
society.  Considerable  surprise  was  expressed  that 
when  thus  exiled  from  the  '  world'  of  western 
Europe  she  did  not  retire  to  Petersburg ;  but  she 
probably  had  her  own  reasons  for  not  doing  so. 

Another  woman  in  her  place,  with  her  immense 
means,  might  have  let  go  all  she  had  lost  and  lived 
gaily  from  day  to  day.  But  she  was  naturally 
slow,  and  with  the  luxurious  tendencies  of  her 
temperament  were  mingled  sentimentality  and  a 
certain  liability  to  sporadic  attacks  of  a  sense  of 
propriety.  She  grasped  at  everything  that  could 
make  her  at  one  with  the  world. 

She  had  set  her  heart  upon  a  respectable  mar- 
riage, becoming  her  rank.  In  the  far  distance 
Edgar  von  Rohritz  hovered  before  her  as  the  St. 
George  who  was  destined  to  slay  for  her  the  dragon 
of  prejudice. 

Certain  people,  especially  women,  understand 
how  to  touch  up  their  reminiscences  with  the  same 
artistic  skill  that  a  photographer  expends  upon  his 
pictures,  so  that  very  little  remains  of  the  fact  as 
it  was  originally  projected  upon  the  memory. 

Sophie  Oblonsky  erased,  in  this  touching  up  of 


FIVE-O'CLOCK  TEA.  253 

her  reminiscences,  everything  that  she  disliked. 
She  talked  so  much  of  her  virtue  that  she  finally 
came  to  believe  in  it. 

Meanwhile,  she  behaved  with  perfect  propriety 
and  was  fearfully  bored. 

It  is  five  o'clock,  and  the  heavy  curtains  before 
the  windows  of  her  drawing-room  are  already 
drawn  close.  The  lamps  shed  a  rnild,  agreeable 
light.  A  lackey  has  just  brought  in  the  tea.  Upon 
a  pretty  Japanese  stand,  beside  the  silver  samovar, 
sparkle  the  glass  decanters  of  cordial  and  all  the 
modern  accompaniments  of  afternoon  tea. 

It  is  the  Princess's  reception-day. 

That  she  entirely  ignores  in  her  intercourse  with 
Stasy  her  own  loss  of  position,  that  she  ascribes  her 
seclusion  solely  to  a  voluntary  retirement  from  a 
hollow  world  which  disgusts  her,  there  is  as  little 
need  of  saying  as  that  Stasy,  without  a  word  from 
the  Princess  to  induce  her  to  do  so,  feels  herself 
under  obligations  to  introduce  Sophie  to  a  new 
social  circle. 

This  '  circle'  consists  as  yet  but  of  a  few  wealthy 
Americans,  just  arrived  in  Paris,  and  of — artists. 

The  Princess  has  a  special  liking  for  artists ; 
they  are,  she  maintains,  so  much  fresher,  so  much 
quicker  and  pleasanter  as  companions,  than  her 
equals  in  rank,  of  whose  wearisome  shallowness 
she  has  many  a  story  to  tell.  And  her  special 
favourite  among  these  is  the  pianist  Fuhrwesen. 

22 


254  ERLACH  COURT. 

Why,  good  heavens,  the  only  occupation  which 
really  interests  the  Princess  at  this  time  is  the 
search  for  some  private  irregularity  in  the  lives  of 
women  of  extreme  apparent  respectability  ;  and  in 
these  investigations  the  pianist  is  always  ready  to 
assist  her. 

Dressed  with  great  taste  but  with  severe  sim- 
plicity, holding  a  small  Japanese  hand-screen  be- 
tween her  face  and  the  glow  from  the  fire,  the 
Princess  is  leaning  back  in  a  low  chair  near  the 
hearth,  complaining  of  headache,  and  hoping  that 
there  will  not  be  as  many  people  here  to-day  as  on 
her  last  reception-day. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour — yes,  half  an  hour — passes, 
and  no  one  appears.  Stasy  is  hungry;  ihefoie  gras 
sandwiches  are  very  tempting,  but  to  partake  of 
one  would  be  a  tacit  admission  that  there  is  no 
hope  of  a  visitor,  and  she  must  not  be  the  first  to 
confess  the  fact. 

"  Poor  Boissy !" — this  is  a  painter  whom  the  Ob- 
lonsky  has  taken  under  her  protection, — "  poor 
Boissy !  probably  he  cannot  summon  up  the  courage 
to  come;  he  is  ashamed  of  his  wife.  Ah,  he  really 
cannot  dream  how  considerate  I  am  for  artists' 
wives.  It  is  a  theory  of  mine  that  it  is  our  duty, 
as  ladies,  to  educate  artists'  wives  for  their  hus- 
bands. I  know  it  is  not  usual  to  receive  them ; 
but  that  seems  to  me  very  petty,  and  I  hate  all 
pettiness." 


FIVE-O'CLOCK  TEA.  255 

Another  quarter  of  an  hour  passes.  Stasy  is 
faint  with  hunger. 

"  One  of  the  Fanes  must  be  ill,"  she  observes, 
"  or  they  would  certainly  be  here.  I  must  find  out 
what "  But  Sophie  interrupts  her  impatiently. 

"  Pour  me  out  a  cup  of  tea,"  she  orders  her. 

The  tea  is  cold  and  bitter  from  waiting  so  long 
for  guests  who  do  not  arrive.  Sophie  finds  it  de- 
testable, and  reproaches  Stasy  therefor. 

Stasy  consoles  herself  for  her  friend's  capricious 
injustice  by  taking  two  glasses  of  cordial,  three 
sandwiches,  and  half  a  dozen  little  cakes. 

Meanwhile,  Sophie  observes,  with  a  yawn,  "  I 
cannot  tell  you  how  glad  I  am  that  no  one  came. 
People  bore  me  so.  I  revel  in  my  solitude.  And 
to  think  that  I  must  shortly  resign  it !  I  must  call 
upon  our  ambassadress  shortly." 

In  spite  of  her  wonderful  degree  of  aplomb, 
Anastasia  at  this  point  of  the  conversation  is  silent 
and  looks  rather  confused. 

"  You  saw  her  in  the  Bois  lately,"  the  Oblonsky 
continues,  in  a  somewhat  irritated  tone. 

"  Yes ;  you  pointed  her  out  to  me." 

"  Well,  you  must  have  noticed  how  stiffly  she 
bowed.  No  wonder.  She  must  have  known  how 
long  I  have  been  in  Paris  without  calling  upon  her." 

"  I  have  always  told  you  that  you  carry  to  excess 
your  passion  for  solitude,"  Stasy  chirps.  "  It  is  easy 
to  go  too  far  in  such  a  preference." 


256  ERLACH  COURT. 

"Ah,  the  world  is  odious  to  me,"  Sophie  de- 
clares. 

The  hell  outside  is  heard  to  ring  at  this  moment. 

"  Insufferable !"  Sonja  exclaims.  "  I  trust  no 
one  is  coming  to  disturb  us  now !"  And,  glancing 
at  the  mirror  over  the  chimney-piece,  she  adjusts 
her  jabot  and  a  curl  above  her  forehead. 

The  lackey  flings  wide  the  folding  doors  and  an- 
nounces, "  Mademoiselle  Urwese," — the  French  ab- 
breviation, apparently,  for  Fuhrwesen;  for,  even 
more  copper-coloured  than  usual,  in  consequence 
of  the  biting  north  wind  outside,  with  her  hair 
blowing  about  her  eyes,  a  kind  of  reddish-yellow 
turban  upon  her  head,  and  wearing  her  tassel-be- 
decked water-proof,  the  pianist  enters. 

"  How  nice  of  you !  This  is  really  charming, 
my  dear  Fuhrwesen !"  exclaims  Sophie,  hastily 
concealing  her  disappointment.  *'  This  is  my  day, 
but  I  closed  my  doors  for  all  strangers, — absolutely 
for  all,"  the  imaginative  Princess  asseverates ;  then, 
pausing  suddenly,  she  glances  uneasily  at  Stasy. 
But  Stasy  has  long  since  learned  to  let  such  rhap- 
sodies pass  her  by  without  so  much  as  the  quiver 
of  an  eyelash :  her  face  is  motionless,  and  the  Ob- 
lonsky  goes  on  fluently :  "  You  were  the  only  one 
whom  Baptiste  had  orders  to  admit.  Take  off  your 
wraps :  you  will  stay  and  dine,  of  course,  dear,  will 
you  not  ?" 

""With  your  kind  permission,"  Fraulein  Fuhr- 


FIVE-O'CLOCK  TEA.  257 

wesen  says,  submissively,  kissing  the  Oblonsky's 
hand. 

"  And  now  sit  here  by  the  fire  and  warm  yourself. 
Anastasia," — this  is  drawled  over  her  shoulder, — 
"  pour  out  a  glass  of  cordial  for  her. — You  can  have 
nothing  more,  my  dear;  I  cannot  permit  you  to 
spoil  your  appetite.  "We  are  going  to  have  an  ex- 
tremely fine  dinner." 

"  Your  Highness  is  really  too  kind,"  says  the 
pianist.  "  Ah,  how  intensely  becoming  that  green 
gown  is  to  you !  Did  you  hear  Prince  Olary's  de- 
scription of  you  ? — '  The  Venus  of  Milo,  dressed 
by  Worth.'  Was  it  not  capital  ?"  And  the  pianist 
gazes  at  the  Oblonsky  with  enthusiastic  admira- 
tion. 

"  Yes,  yes,  you  are  in  love  with  me,  my  dear : 
'tis  an  old  story,"  the  Princess  says,  with  a  laugh. 
"  But  now  tell  us  something  new :  you  always 
have  a  budget  of  news.  Any  fresh  scandal  in  the 
Faubourg?" 

"  Let  me  think,"  Fraulein  Fuhrwesen  says,  re- 
flectively. "  What  news  have  I  heard  ?  A  propos 
— yes,  I  remember ;  but  it  will  shock  your  High- 
ness terribly.  I  really  had  no  idea  of  such  deprav- 
ity in  girls  of  what  is  called  the  best  standing." 

"Oh,  tell  us,  tell  us!"  the  Princess  urges  her. 

"  I  must  first  be  sure  that  I  shall  not  wound 
Fraulein  Anastasia,"  the  pianist  remarks,  discreetly. 
"  Are  you  not  in  some  way  related,  or  a  very  near 

r  22* 


258  ERLACH  COURT. 

friend,  to  the  little  Meineck,  Fraulein  von  Gur- 
lijchingen  ?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  Anastasia  assures  her.  "  I  spent  a 
couple  of  weeks  in  the  same  house  with  her  last 
summer,  but  I  had  very  little  to  say  to  her.  I 
never  liked  her." 

"  Meineck  ?  Meineck?"  says  the  Ohlonsky,  with 
lifted  eyebrows.  "  Is  not  she  the  young  person 
who  you  told  me  fell  so  desperately  in  love  with 
Rohritz?" 

Anastasia  nods. 

"  The  young  lady  apparently  possesses  an  inflam- 
mable heart,"  Fraulein  Fuhrwesen  remarks,  con- 
temptuously :  "  it  already  throbs  for  another, — for 
Prince  Lorenzino  Capito." 

The  Princess  becomes  absorbed  in  contempla- 
tion of  her  nails ;  Anastasia  observes,  "  That  would 
seem  to  be  rather  an  aimless  enthusiasm.  Pray  how 
did  you  learn  anything  about  this  affair  ?" 

Fraulein  Fuhrwesen  draws  a  deep  breath :  "  You 
know  I  play  the  accompaniments  at  della  Seg- 
giola's  class.  Stella  Meineck  has  attended  it  for 
two  months.  The  company  is  rather  mixed,  es- 
pecially so  far  as  the  men  are  concerned.  "Who 
do  you  suppose  made  his  appearance  to  join  the 
class  the  day  before  yesterday?  It  really  is  too 
ridiculous, — pretending  to  want  to  learn  to  sing ! 
Prince  Lorenzo  Capito." 

"  You  don't  say  so !"  Stasy  ejaculates. 


FIVE-O'CLOCK  TEA.  259 

"Yes,  Prince  Capito,"  the  narrator  repeats. 
"  He  stares  past  all  the  others,  takes  a  seat  beside 
little  Meineck,  and  talks  with  her  daring  the  entire 
lesson.  What  do  you  think  of  that,  ladies  ?" 

Stasy  sighs,  and  the  Oblonsky  says, — 

"  Cfest  bien  extraordinaire  !  I  certainly  should  not 
have  thought  that  so  insignificant  a  person  could 
have  inspired  Capito  with  the  sligtest  interest" 

"  I  know  Prince  Capito,"  the  visitor  goes  on  : 
"  I  met  him  in  Vienna  at  the  Countess  Thierstein's. 
His  reputation,  so  far  as  women  are  concerned,  is 
disgraceful.  Any  girl  is  good  enough  to  help  him 
while  away  an  hour  or  two." 

"  Yes,  he  is  a  terrible  creature,"  the  Princess 
sighs.  "  I  really  had  no  idea  of  it.  He  used  to  be 
a  good  deal  at  our  house  while  my  husband  was 
alive.  Of  course  he  never  presumed  with  me." 

"  Cela  va  sans  dire"  exclaims  Stasy. 

"  Of  course,  you  know  me :  to  friendly  inter- 
course— yes,  I  do  not  pretend  to  more  reserve  than 
I  possess — even  to  a  slight  flirtation  with  an  inter- 
esting man — I  have  no  objection;  but  anything 
beyond  that  absolutely  passes  my  comprehension." 

"  The  little  Meineck,  however,"  Fraulein  Fuhr- 
wesen  continues,  with  a  malicious  smile,  "  does  not 
appear  to  be  so  strict  in  her  ideas.  I  distinctly 
heard  her  during  the  singing-lesson  arranging  a 
rendezvous  in  the  Louvre  with  the  Prince." 

"  A   rendezvous  ?"  Sophie  repeats,  with  horror. 


260  ERLACH  COURT. 

"  That  is  indeed And  do  you  know  whether 

Capito  kept  the  appointment  ?" 

"  Certainly.  I  made  sure  of  it,"  continues  her 
informant.  "  The  morning  after  the  singing-class 
I  had  a  lesson  to  give  near  the  Louvre,  and  after  it 
was  over  I  had  a  little  time  to  spare.  I  am  per- 
fectly familiar  with  the  museum,  as  I  often  go  there 
to  visit  an  acquaintance  of  mine.  I  never  look  at 
the  pictures  any  more,  they  tire  me  to  death,  but  the 
Louvre  is  always  a  nice  place  to  get  warm.  So  I 
mounted  the  staircase,  and  lingered  for  a  while 
beside  the  register  in  the  Salle  La  Gaze,  exchang- 
ing a  word  or  two  with  an  Englishman  who  is 
copying  a  Ribera.  Suddenly  the  man  turned,  as 
every  man  turns  to  look  after  a  pretty  girl.  I  turned 
also,  and  whom  should  I  see  but  Mademoiselle 
Stella,  with  her  yellow  hair  and  her  sealskin  jacket ! 
Please  tell  me,  ladies,  how  a  person  so  miserably 
poor  as  she  is — I  know  all  about  the  Meinecks' 
pecuniary  circumstances,  coming  as  I  do  from 
Zalow — can  buy  a  sealskin  jacket, — and  a  beautiful 
one  ?  Why,  one  has  to  save  for  three  years  to  get 
a  respectable  water-proof." 

"  Probably  it  was  given  to  her,"  the  Princess  says, 
with  a  shrug.  "  But  go  on." 

"  She  went  directly  through  the  room,  without 
looking  at  the  pictures,  precisely  like  some  one  who 
had  come  simply  to  meet  some  one  else.  I  went 
up  to  her,  and,  though  I  cannot  endure  the  haughty 


FIVE-O'CLOCK  TEA.  261 

creature,  I  spoke  to  her :  '  Ah,  Baronne,  how  are 
you  ?'  She  replied  curtly,  looking  past  me  to  the 
right  and  left,  and  finally,  observing  that  she  could 
not  stay,  for  she  had  promised  to  meet  some  one, — 
oh,  a  lady,  of  course! — walked  quickly  away.  My 
time  was  up.  I  looked  after  her,  and  was  leaving, 
when  whom  should  I  encounter  in  the  Galerie 
d'Apollon  but  Prince  Capito  !  I  suppose  any  one 
who  knows  of  his  devotion  to  art  can  readily  im- 
agine why  he  should  be  in  the  Louvre !  What  do 
you  say  to  such  conduct  ?" 

"Absolutely  depraved!"  exclaims  the  Princess. 

"  "We  all  know  whither  these  '  innocent  meetings' 
in  the  picture-galleries  lead,"  the  Fuhrwesen  con- 
tinues. "  The  next  thing  she  will  pay  him  a  visit 
in  his  lodgings." 

"  Oh,  my  dear !"  the  Oblonsky  laughs  affectedly. 

"  Bah !  I  live  opposite  the  Prince  in  the  Rue 
d'Anjou;  I  should  not  be  at  all  surprised  if  I  were 

to  see  that  young  lady  walk  into  No. some  fine 

day." 

"  If  you  do  you  must  come  and  tell  us  instantly  !" 
exclaims  the  Princess,  taking  her  visitor's  hand. 
"  Oh,  how  cold  you  are !  Is  it  possible  you  are 
not  warm  yet?  Indeed,  you  are  not  sufficiently 
clothed " 

"My  cloak  is  a  little  thin,  but  I  cannot  help 
that.  Your  Highness  will  readily  understand  that 
I  am  not  able  to  buy  a  sealskin  jacket." 


262  ERLACH  COURT. 

"You Anastasia,  be  kind  enough  to  tell 

Justine  to  bring  down  my  two  winter  cloaks." 

Anastasia  obligingly  brings  the  cloaks  herself, 
and  the  Princess  requests  Fraulein  Fuhrwesen  to 
try  them  on.  Although  the  little  pianist  is  shorter 
by  almost  a  head  and  shoulders  than  the  majestic 
Princess,  and  consequently  the  garments  trail  behind 
her  like  coronation-robes,  the  Oblonsky  assures 
her  that  they  fit  her  as  though  they  had  been  made 
for  her,  and  immediately  bestows  upon  her  one  of 
the  two,  a  magnificent  wrap  of  dark-green  velvet, 
trimmed  with  fur. 

The  pianist  kisses  both  hands  of  the  donor,  and 
kneels  before  her;  the  Princess  says,  laughing, 
"  Don't  be  absurd,  my  dear.  You  see  that  giving — 
making  others  happy — is  a  passion  with  me.  Stasy 
has  one  of  my  cloaks,  you  have  another,  I  keep 
the  simplest  for  myself.  I  have  always  lived  for 
others  only." 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

A  CHANGE    AT    ERLACH    COURT. 

"  THERE  is  something  rotten  in  the  state  of  Den- 
mark," Edgar  von  Rohritz  says  to  himself,  looking 
out  of  his  window  at  Erlach  Court  upon  the  snow- 
covered  garden  below. 


A   CHANGE  AT  ERLACH  COURT.  263 

Six  days  ago  he  arrived  at  the  castle  to  spend 
Christmas,  as  had  been  agreed  upon.  The  Christ- 
mas festivities  are  at  an  end.  The  children  from 
the  three  villages  upon  whom  Katrine  had  showered 
gifts  have  all,  as  well  as  Freddy,  become  accus- 
tomed to  their  new  possessions,  but  the  giant 
Christmas-tree,  robbed,  it  is  true,  of  its  sugar- 
plums, still  stands  with  its  candle-stumps  and  gilt 
ornaments  in  the  corridor,  and  from  the  brown 
frames  of  the  engravings  in  the  dining-room  a 
few  evergreen  boughs  are  still  hanging,  remnants 
of  the  Christmas  decorations. 

Rohritz  has  enjoyed  celebrating  the  lovely  festi- 
val in  the  country, — everything  was  bright  and 
gay ;  but  there  is  a  change  of  atmosphere  at  Er- 
lach  Court;  the  social  charm  for  which  it  used 
to  be  renowned  is  lacking. 

Edgar's  reception  both  by  husband  and  by  wife 
was  most  cordial:  the  captain  is  gay, " talkative, — 
almost  gayer  and  more  talkative  than  in  summer; 
but  there  is  a  cloud  on  Katrine's  brow. 

Instead  of  the  frank  but  thoroughly  good-hu- 
moured tone  in  which  she  was  wont  to  deride  the 
captain's  exaggerated  outbreaks,  she  now  passes 
them  by  in  silence.  She  never  quarrels  with  him, 
she  is  decidedly  displeased  with  him,  and — what 
surprises  "Rohritz  more  than  all  else — the  captain 
seems  to  care  very  little  for  her  displeasure. 

To-day  Rohritz  asked  Katrine  if  it  was  quite 


264  ERLACH  COURT. 

decided  that  the  captain  was  to  leave  the  army  and 
retire  once  for  all  to  the  country.  Whereupon 
Katrine's  fine  eyes  sparkle  angrily,  and  with  a 
slight  quiver  of  her  delicate  nostril  she  replies, 
"  So  it  seems.  He  will  not  listen  to  any  suggestion 
of  resuming  the  hard  duties  of  the  service,  but  has 
accustomed  himself  entirely  to  the  lazy  life  of  a 
landed  proprietor."  And  when  Rohritz  remains 
silent,  she  exclaims,  angrily,  "  I  know  what  you 
are  thinking :  that  I  gave  him  no  choice  save  to 
resign  his  career  or  his  domestic  life, — which  is 
no  choice  at  all  with  men  of  his  stamp,  whose 
love  of  domesticity  is  very  pronounced,  and  who 
have  no  ambition !  But  when  I  acted  so  I  thought 
he  would  lead  a  country  life,  without  deteriorating ; 
I  thought  he  would  occupy  himself, — would  devote 
his  energies  to  politics,  to  Slavonic  agricultural 
interests " 

"  Indeed  ?"  Rohritz  asks.  "  Did  you  really  ex- 
pect that  of  Les  ?" 

"  Yes,"  Katrine  exclaims,  "  I  did  expect  that 
of  Jack;  and  I  had  a  right  to  expect  it,  for  he 
lacks  neither  energy  nor  sense." 

"  He  was  always  considered  one  of  the  keenest 
and  most  gifted  officers  in  the  army,"  says  Rohritz. 

"  And  with  justice,"  Katrine  confirms  his  words. 
"  You  have  no  idea  of  the  energy  with  which  he 
devoted  himself  to  the  service.  "Were  you  ever  in 
Hungary  ?" 


A    CHANGE  AT  ERLACH  COURT.  265 

"  Yes,  madame,  I  served  as  captain  for  two  years 


n 


"  Then  you  are  familiar  with  the  fearful  heat  of 
the  Hungarian  summers.  To  order  dinner  and  to 
sit  upright  at  table  exhausted  my  capacity  ;  whilst 
he,  although  he  rose  at  four  that  he  might  get 
through  riding-school  before  the  terrible  heat  of 
the  day,  scarcely  ever  lay  down  for  half  an  hour. 
He  continually  had  something  to  arrange,  to  decide, 
to  command  ;  he  occupied  himself  with  the  indi- 
vidual concerns  of  every  soldier  in  his  squadron; 
he  never  took  a  moment's  rest  from  morning  until 
night;  while  now  —  now  he  does  nothing,  nothing 
but  sleigh,  mend  a  toy  for  the  boy  now  and  then, 
and  read  silly  novels." 

Rohritz  is  spared  the  necessity  of  replying,  for 
at  this  moment  the  quiet  drawing-room  where  this 
conversation  is  going  on  is  invaded  by  the  sharp 
clear  tinkle  of  large  sleigh-bells.  Katrine  turns 
her  head  hastily  and  walks  to  the  window. 

"  So  soon  again  !"  she  exclaims,  as  a  fair,  stout, 
pretty  woman,  wrapped  in  furs,  allows  herself,  with 
much  loud  talking,  to  be  helped  out  of  the  sleigh  by 
the  captain.  "Whilst  Katrine,  with  a  very  gloomy 
face,  takes  her  seat  in  an  arm-chair  to  await  the 
stranger's  appearance,  Rohrite  withdraws,  under 
the  pretext  of  an  obligation  to  answer  immediately 
an  important  letter. 

But  he  writes  no  letter;  he  does  not  even  sit 
M  23 


266  ERLACH  COURT. 

down  at  his  writing-desk,  but  stands  at  his  window 
looking  out  at  the  snow.  In  town  he  had  quite 
forgotten  how  pure  and  white  snow  originally  is. 
He  gazes  at  it  as  at  some  curiosity  which  he  is 
beholding  for  the  first  time.  On  the  rose-beds, 
the  bushes,  the  old  linden, — everywhere  it  lies 
thick, — thick ! 

Here  and  there  some  branch  thrusts  forth  a  black 
point  from  the  white  covering,  and  the  trunks  of 
the  trees  are  all  divided  in  halves,  a  black  half 
and  a  white  one. 

He  reflects  upon  the  domestic  drama  about  to 
be  enacted  close  at  hand. 

He  is  sorry  for  Katrine,  although  he  lays  at  her 
door  the  blame  for  all  the  annoyances  of  which  she 
has  spoken  to  him,  petty,  provoking  annoyances, 
which  under  certain  circumstances  may  be  the  fore- 
runners of  actual  misfortune. 

"  One  more  who  has  thrust  aside  happiness,"  he 
murmurs,  bitterly,  adding  on  the  instant,  "  If  we 
could  only  recognize  our  happiness  at  the  right 
time !  If  it  could  only  say  to  us,  *  Here  I  am, — 
clasp  me  close !'  But  the  truest,  finest  happiness 
is  never  self-asserting :  it  walks  beside  us  mute 
and  modest,  warming  and  rejoicing  our  hearts, 
while  we  know  not  whence  come  the  warmth  and 
the  delight." 

******* 

As  the  stout  blonde  whom  Leskjewitsch  helped 


A    CHANGE  AT  ERLACH  COURT.  267 

out  of  the  sleigh  not  only  remains  to  lunch,  but 
also  takes  afternoon  tea  and  dinner  at  Erlach  Court, 
Rohritz  has  abundant  opportunity  to  observe  her. 
That,  like  all  sirens  who  disturb  domestic  serenity, 
she  should  be  inferior  in  every  respect  to  the  wife 
whose  peace  of  mind  she  threatens,  was  to  have 
been  expected ;  but  that  she  should  be  so  immeas- 
urably inferior  to  Katrine, — for  that  Rohritz  was 
not  prepared. 

Anywhere  else  save  in  the  country,  and  more- 
over in  a  world-forgotten  corner  of  Ukrania,  where 
the  foxes  bid  one  another  good-night,  and  human 
beings  are  consequently  easier  to  be  induced  than 
in  civilized  countries  to  bid  one  another  good-day 
in  spite  of  stupid  social  prejudices,  any  intercourse 
between  this  lady  and  the  family  at  Erlach  Court 
would  have  been  impossible. 

The  daughter  of  a  lucifer-match   manufacturer 

in   P ,  with   a  moderate   degree   of  education 

and  a  strong  passion  for  hunting,  three  years  ago 
she  had  married  the  son  of  a  riding-teacher,  a  cer- 
tain Herr  Ruprecht,  who  had  been  first  a  cavalry- 
officer,  then  a  circus  manager  in  America,  and 
finally  a  newspaper-man  in  Vienna.  After  these 
various  experiences  with  her  promising  husband, 
they  had  shortly  before  taken  up  their  abode  in  a 
villa  not  far  from  Erlach  Court,  on  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  Save.  As  the  husband  spent  most  of 
his  time  with  a  pretty  actress,  the  young  wife  passed 


268  ERLACH  COURT. 

her  days  in  dreary  solitude.  The  country-people 
called  her  the  grass -widow. 

"  I  need  not  assure  you  that  I  am  not  in  the  least 
jealous,"  Katrine  remarks  to  Rohritz  in  the  draw- 
ing-room, while  the  grass-widow  with  Freddy  and 
the  captain  is  playing  billiards  in  the  library,  "but 
I  frankly  confess  that  I  find  the  pleasure  which  Jack 
takes  in  the  society  of  that  common  creature — 
that  fat  goose — incomprehensible.  It  irritates  me. 
Moreover,  she  is  ugly !" 

Rohritz  receives  this  outburst  of  Katrine's  pre- 
cisely as  he  receives  all  her  outbursts, — in  thought- 
ful, courteous  silence.  Frau  Ruprecht  certainly  is 
common  and  silly ;  ugly  she  is  not.  She  has  a  daz- 
zling complexion,  a  magnificent  bust,  and  a  regular 
profile,  although  with  lips  that  are  too  thick,  a 
double  chin,  and  light  eyelashes.  She  speaks  in  a 
common,  Viennese  dialect,  has  never  read  a  sensible 
book  in  her  life,  uses  perfumes  in  excess,  and  has 
no  taste  whatever  in  dress. 

But  she  drives  like  a  Viennese  hackman,  she  rides 
like  a  jockey,  and  her  knowledge  of  sporting-mat- 
ters would  do  honour  to  a  professional  trainer.  She 
allows  Leskjewitsch  the  utmost  freedom  of  speech, 
and  is  ready  to  laugh  at  his  worst  jokes. 

She  disgusts  Edgar  Rohritz  quite  as  much  as 
she  disgusts  Katrine ;  nevertheless  he  understands 
what  there  is  about  her  to  attract  Leskjewitsch. 


A   PARIS  LETTER.  269 

CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

A   PARIS   LETTER. 

A  FEW  days  after  the  appearance  at  Erlach  Court 
of  the  grass-widow,  the  mail  brings  Rohritz  a  letter 
with  the  Paris  post-mark.  Edgar  recognizes  his 
sister-in-law's  hand,  opens  it  not  without  haste,  and 
reads  it  not  without  interest.  It  runs  thus : 

"  Eh  bien,  my  dear  Edgar,  fespere  que  vous  serez 
content  de  moi," — Therese  always  writes  to  her 
brother  in  a  jargon  of  French,  Italian,  German, 
and  English,  which,  out  of  regard  for  the  pedantry 
of  modern  purists,  we  translate  into  as  good  Eng- 
lish as  we  are  able  to  command :  "  I  hope  you 
will  be  pleased  with  me.  I  frankly  confess  to 
you,  what  you  probably  guessed  from  my  last 
postal  card,  that  your  request  to  me  to  try  to 
brighten  their  life  in  Paris  for  two  of  your 
countrywomen  did  not  afford  me  much  pleasure. 
As  a  rule,  compatriots  so  recommended  are  an 
unmitigated  bore,  from  the  pianists  whose  three 
hundred — no,  that's  too  few — five  hundred  tickets 
we  must  dispose  of,  and  who  then,  when  you 
ask  them  to  a  soiree,  are  too  grand  to  play  the 
smallest  mazourka  of  Chopin,  to  the  Baronesses 
Wolnitzka,  who  request  you  to  introduce  them  to 

23* 


270  ERLACH  COURT. 

Parisian  society  because  they  never  have  an  oppor- 
tunity to  see  any  one  at  home.  The  pianists  are 
bad  enough,  but  the  Wolnitzkas — oh  !  In  one  re- 
spect they  are  precisely  alike :  they  are  always  of- 
fended. If  you  invite  them  en  famille  they  are 
offended  because  they  suppose  you  are  ashamed  of 
them  ;  if  you  invite  them  to  a  ball  they  are  offended 
because  you  pay  them  no  particular  attention.  The 
upshot  is  that  you  always  have  to  refuse  them  some- 
thing,— to  lend  a  thousand  francs  to  the  genius 
when  he  already  owes  you  five  hundred, — to  pro- 
cure for  the  Wolnitzkas  an  invitation  to  some  ball 
at  the  embassy;  then  ensues  a  quarrel,  and  they 
draw  down  the  corners  of  their  mouths  and  look 
the  other  way  when  they  meet  you  in  the  street. 

"  Only  at  the  repeated  request  of  your  brother, 
who  wherever  anything  Austrian  is  concerned  is 
the  personification  of  self-sacrificing  devotion,  did 
I  make  up  my  mind  to  call  upon  your  acquaintance 
at  the  '  Negroes.' 

"  The  hotel  is — very  plain,  but  I  believe  very  re- 
spectable,— which  is  more  than  one  has  a  right  to 
expect  of  just  such  furnished  lodgings  in  Paris. 
The  staircase,  a  narrow  crooked  flight  of  steps 
with  slippery  sloping  stairs,  creaked  beneath  my 
feet ;  I  was  afraid  it  would  break  down  as  I  mounted 
to  the  Meinecks'  appartement.  One  final,  depress- 
ing, menacing  memory  of  the  "Wolnitzkas  assailed 
me.  Justin  rings,  the  door  opens,  and  all  my  prej- 


A   PARIS  LETTER.  271 

udices  vanish  like  snow  before  the  sun.  The 
daughter  alone  was  at  home.  I  fell  in  love  with 
her  on  the  instant, — so  deeply  in  love  that  before  I 
left  I  called  her  Stella  and  kissed  her  cheek.  She 
is  enchanting. 

"  It  is  not  only  that  she  is  exquisitely  beautiful ; 
she  combines  the  most  innocent  simplicity  with  the 
greatest  distinction,  a  combination  never  found  ex- 
cept in  Austrian  women.  You  see  I  know  how  to 
value  your  countrywomen  when  they  are  really 
worth  it. 

"  Her  face,  her  entire  air,  seemed  created  to 
banish  all  sadness  from  her  presence;  and  yet 
there  was  a  pathos  in  her  look,  in  her  smile,  that 
went  to  my  heart.  But  she  must  be  happy.  I 
mean  to  search  for  happiness  for  her ;  and  I  shall 
find  it. 

•'Ck  que  ferrnne  k  veuty  Dieu  le  veut!  When  I 
do  anything  I  do  it  thoroughly.  "What  do  you 
think?  It  took  me  three  weeks  to  resolve  to  call 
upon  the  Meinecks.  I  invited  them  to  dine  without 
waiting  for  them  to  return  my  visit.  You  know 
my  way.  "We  passed  a  charming  evening  together, 
strictly  informal,  to  become  acquainted  with  one 
another.  The  mother  was  as  little  eccentric  as  is 
possible  for  a  blue-stocking  to  be,  and  in  the  course 
of  four  hours  had  only  two  attacks  of  absence  of 
mind,  which  does  her  honour.  What  a  handsome 
face !  Edmund,  who  is  u  connoisseur  in  such 


272  ERLACH  COURT. 

matters,  maintains  that  she  must  have  been  more 
beautiful  than  her  daughter, — high  praise,  since  the 
daughter,  by  the  way,  pleases  him  as  much  as  she 
does  me.  And  then  what  wealth  of  learning  be- 
hind that  brow  with  its  white  hair!  "Wells  of 
knowledge  !  a  walking  encyclopaedia ! 

"  Although  the  fashion  of  her  gown  was  that  of 
twenty  years  ago,  she  is  still  a  thorough  grande 
dame  ;  and  that  is  saying  much  in  consideration  of 
the  evident  dilapidation  of  their  finances. 

"  As  a  mother  she  may  have  her  disagreeable 
side ;  she  is  too  original, — too  egotistic.  She  neg- 
lects her  lovely'  daughter  frightfully.  All  the 
time  not  absorbed  by  her  literary  labours  she  de- 
votes to  the  study  of  Paris;  and  what  mode  of 
pursuing  this  study  with  the  due  amount  of  thor- 
oughness do  you  suppose  she  has  invented?  She 
drives  about  for  a  certain  number  of  hours  daily 
on  the  tops  of  the  various  omnibuses. 

"  Fancy  ! — on  the  top  of  an  omnibus !  A  day 
or  two  ago,  coming  home  from  the  Bon-Marche, 
as  I  was  detained  by  a  crowd  of  vehicles  in  the 
Rue  du  Bac  I  saw  her  comfortably  installed  upon 
the  dizzy  height  of  an  omnibus-top.  She  wore  a 
short  black  velvet  cloak  frayed  at  all  the  seams, 
the  fur  trimming  eaten  away  by  moths,  pearl-gray 
gloves  (her  hands  are  ridiculously  small),  such  as 
were  worn  twenty  years  ago  upon  state  occasions, 
a  black  straw  bonnet,  and  no  muff.  She  sat  be- 


A   PARIS  LETTER.  273 

tween  two  vagabonds  in  white  blouses,  with  whom 
she  was  talking  earnestly,  and  looked  like — well, 
like  a  queen  dowager  in  disguise.  As  it  was  just 
beginning  to  rain,  I  sent  my  servant  to  beg  her  to 
alight,  and  took  her  home  in  my  carriage. 

"  A  lady  on  the  top  of  an  omnibus !  It  is  fright- 
ful; it  is  impossible.  But  still  more  impossible  is 
a  young  girl  who  wishes  to  go  upon  the  stage ;  and 
Stella  wishes  to  go  upon  the  stage. 

"  Nevertheless  my  relations  with  the  Meinecks 
grow  daily  more  intimate.  Heroic  conduct  on  my 
part,  is  it  not  ? 

"  Poor  little  Stella  !  I  feel  an  infinite  pity  for  her. 
I  have  no  faith  in  her  career.  Pshaw !  Stella 
Meineck  on  the  stage  !  'Tis  ridiculous !  She  does 
not  know  what  she  is  talking  about. 

"Meanwhile,  I  have  impressed  upon  her  that 
she  is  to  tell  no  one  of  her  artistic  plans,  which 
may  come  to  naught.  It  might  do  her  an  injury. 
And  I  have  a  scheme  !  Ah,  leave  it  to  me.  What 
I  do  I  do  well.  Before  the  season  is  over  Stella 
will  be  married.  To  establish  a  young  girl  with 
no  money  is  difficult  nowadays,  particularly  in 
Paris,  where  every  man  has  a  fixed  price ;  but  thero 
are  bargains  to  be  had  occasionally. 

"  She  is  beautiful,  she  is  lovely,  and  if  the  Mei- 
necks do  not  date  precisely  from  the  Crusades  the 
name  sounds  fine  enough  to  impress  some  wealthy 
citizen  who  writes  on  his  card  the  name  of  his 


274  ERLACH  COURT. 

estate  in  the  country  after  his  own,  in  hopes  of  thus 
manufacturing  a  title  for  himself. 

"  I  see  you  curl  your  haughty  Austrian  lip ;  you 
regard  all  these  pseudo-aristocrats  with  sovereign 
contempt.  You  are  wrong.  Good  heavens !  why 
should  not  a  man  call  himself  after  his  castle  if  it 
has  a  prettier  name  than  his  own?  Do  we  not 
find  it  more  agreeable  to  present  him  to  our  ac- 
quaintances as  Monsieur  de  Hauterive  than  as  Mon- 
sieur Cabouat  ?  Now  'tis  out !  There  is  a  certain 
Monsieur  Cabouat  de  Hauterive  whom  I  have  in 
my  eye  for  Stella.  He  is  very  rich,  has  frequented 
the  society  of  gentlemen  from  childhood,  and  has 
been  received  during  the  last  few  years  by  every- 
body; he  loves  music,  has  one  of  the.  finest  private 
picture-galleries  in  Paris,  and  is  in  the  prime  of 
life, — barely  forty-two, — quite  young  for  a  man  : 
in  short,  he  seems  made  for  Stella.  Last  summer 
he  laughingly  challenged  me  to  find  a  wife  for  him, 
expressly  stating  that  he  desired  no  dowry.  At 
that  time  he  was  longing  for  repose  and  a  home. 
I  heard  lately,  however,  that  he  had  become  en- 
tangled in  a  liaison  with  S ,  6f  the  Opera-Boufte. 

That  would  be  frightful. 

"  Moreover,  I  have  two  other  men  in  view  for 
Stella, — an  Englishman,  forty-five  years  old,  rather 
shy  in  consequence  of  deafness,  of  very  good  family, 
an  income  of  six  thousand  pounds  sterling,  and  of 
good  trustworthy  character;  and  a  Dutchman  whose 


A   PARIS  LETTER.  275 

ears  were  cut  off  in  Turkey,  wherefore  he  is  com- 
pelled to  wear  his  hair  after  the  fashion  of  the 
youthful  Bonaparte ;  but  these  are  trifles. 

"  Poor  melancholy  little  Stella  will  be  glad  to 
shelter  her  weary  head  beneath  any  respectable 
roof.  The  only  thing  that  troubles  me  is  that  Zino 
knew  her  three  years  ago  in  Venice,  and  is  perfectly 
bewitched  by  her.  Can  I  prevent  him  from  making 
love  to  her?  It  would  be  dreadful.  Not  that  it 
would  ever  occur  to  him  to  be  wanting  in  respect 
for  her,  but  he  might  turn  her  head,  and  that  would 
ruin  all  my  plans.  She  might  then  conceive  the  idea 
of  marrying  only  a  man  with  wtom  she  is  in  love, 
— perfect  nonsense  in  her  position :  there  is  none 
such  for  her.  Love  is  an  article  of  supreme  luxury 
in  marriage,  and  exists  for  wealthy  people  and  day- 
labourers  only. 

"  Yes,  when  I  do  anything  I  do  it  well !  I  do  not 
write  to  you  for  two  years,  but  then  I  give  you 
twenty  pages  at  once.  Have  you  had  the  patience 
to  read  all  this?  If  you  have,  let  me  entreat  you 
to  take  to  heart  what  follows. 

"  Give  us  the  pleasure  of  a  visit  from  you.  You 
do  not  know  our  new  home,  and  I  am  burning  with 
desire  to  show  it  to  you.  In  the  first  story  of  our 
little  house  there  is  a  room  all  ready  for  you,  very 
comfortable,  and,  I  give  you  my  word,  the  chimney 
does  not  smoke.  If  you  cannot  be  induced  to  come 
to  us,  let  Edmund  take  rooms  for  you  wherever  you 


276  ERLACH  COURT. 

please.  Only  come  !  I  shall  else  fancy  that  you 
have  never  forgiven  me  for  once  being  bold  enough 
to  want  to  marry  you  off.  Adieu  !  I  promise  you 
faithfully  not  to  try  to  lasso  you  again.  With  kind- 
est messages  from  us  all, 

"  Your  affectionate  sister, 


An  extra  slip  of  paper  accompanied  this  succinct 
document.  Its  contents  were  as  follows  : 

"  PARIS,  27th  December. 

"  How  forgetful  I  am  !  The  enclosed  letter  has 
been  lying  for  a  week  in  my  portfolio.  Although 
it  is  an  old  story  now,  I  send  it,  because  it  will  in- 
form you  of  all  that  has  been  going  on. 

"  Two  words  more.  Since  I  wrote  it  I  have  in- 
vited Stella  and  Hauterive  to  dinner  once,  and  have 
had  them  another  evening  in  our  box  at  the  opera. 
They  both  dislike  Wagner:  that  is  something. 
Moreover,  he  thinks  her  enchanting,  and  she  does 
not  think  him  very  disagreeable,  —  which  is  about 
all  that  can  be  expected  in  a  mariage  de  conveyance. 
Everything  is  working  along  smoothly;  the  be- 
trothal is  a  mere  question  of  time.  What  do  you 
say  now  to  my  energy  and  capacity  ?" 

*  *  *  .*  *  *  * 

He  says  nothing.  He  is  very  pale,  and  his  hands 
tremble  as  he  folds  the  letter  and  puts  it  away  in 


A  STORM  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES.         277 

his  desk.  A  distressing,  paralyzing  sensation  over- 
powers him.  For  a  moment  he  sits  motionless  at 
his  writing-table,  his  elbows  resting  upon  it,  his 
head  in  his  hands.  Suddenly  he  springs  to  his  feet. 

"  'Tis  a  crime!  I  must  prevent  it!"  The  next 
moment  he  slays  his  zeal  with  a  smile.  He  pre- 
vent? And  how?  Shall  he,  like  his  namesake  in 
the  opera,  rush  in  at  the  moment  when  the  be- 
trothal is  going  on  and  shout  out  his  veto  ?  And 
what  is  it  to  him  if  Stella  chooses  to  lead  a  wealthy, 
brilliant  existence  beside  an  unloved  husband  ?  No 
one  forces  her  to  do  so. 

Meanwhile,  the  door  of  his  room  opens,  and  with 
the  familiarity  of  an  old  comrade  the  captain  enters. 

"  Will  you  not  play  a  game  of  billiards  with  me, 
Edgar,  before  I  drive  out  ?"  he  asks. 

Rohritz  declares  himself  ready  for  a  game. 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

A   STORM   AND   ITS   CONSEQUENCES. 

THE  billiard-table  is  in  the  library,  a  long,  narrow 
room,  with  a  vast  deal  of  old-fashioned  learning  en- 
closed in  tall,  glazed  bookcases.  In  a  metal  cage 
between  the  windows  swings  a  gray  parrot  with  a 
red  head,  screaming  monotonously,  'Rascal!  ras- 

24 


278  ERLACH  COURT. 

cal !"  The  afternoon  sun  gleams  upon  the  glass 
of  the  bookcases ;  the  whole  room  is  filled  with 
blue-gray  smoke,  and  looks  very  comfortable. 
The  gentlemen  are  both  excellent  billiard-players, 
only  Edgar  is  a  little  out  of  practice.  Leaning  on 
his  cue,  he  is  just  contemplating  with  admiration 
a  bold  stroke  of  his  friend's,  when  Freddy,  quite 
beside  himself,  rushes  into  the  room  and  into  his 
father's  arms. 

"Why,  what  is  it?  what  is  the  matter,  old  fel- 
low ?"  the  captain  says,  stroking  his  cheek  kindly. 

"  Os — ostler  Frank "  Freddy  begins,  but 

without  another  word  he  bursts  into  a  fresh  howl. 

Startled  by  such  sounds  of  woe  from  her  son, 
Katrine  hurries  in,  to  find  the  captain  seated  in  a 
huge  leather  arm-chair,  the  boy  between  his  knees, 
vainly  endeavouring  to  soothe  him.  Rohritz  stands 
half  smiling,  half  sympathetically,  beside  them, 
chalking  his  cue,  while  the  parrot  rattles  at  the 
bars  of  his  cage  and  tries  to  out-shriek  Freddy. 

"What  has  happened?  Has  he  hurt  himself? 
What  is  the  matter  ?"  Katrine  asks,  in  great  agi- 
tation. 

"  N — n — no !"  sobs  Freddy,  his  fingers  in  his 
eyes,  and  the  corners  of  his  mouth  terribly  de- 
pressed; "  but  os — ostler  Frank " 

Ostler  Frank  is  the  second  coachman  and 
Freddy's  personal  friend. 

"  Ostler  Frank  is  an  ass !"  exclaims  the  captain, 


A   STORM  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES.         279 

beginning  to  trace  the  connection  of  ideas  in  his 
son's  mind;  "an  ass.  You  must  not  let  him 
frighten  you." 

"  What  did  he  tell  you  ?"  asks  Katrine,  standing 
beside  her  husband.  "  How  did  he  frighten  you  ? 
He  has  not  dared  to  tell  you  a  ghost-story?  I 
expressly  forbade  it." 

"  Oh,  no,  Katrine :  'tis  all  about  some  stupid 
nonsense,  not  worth  speaking  of,"  replies  the  cap- 
tain,— "  a  mere  nothing." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  what  it  is,  however," 
Katrine  says,  growing  more  uneasy. 

"  He — told — me — papa  must  fight  a  duel ;  and 
when — they — fight  a  duel — they  are  killed !"  Freddy 
screams,  in  despair,  nearly  throttling  his  father  in 
his  affection  and  terror. 

"  I  should  really  be  glad  to  have  some  intelligi- 
ble explanation  of  the  matter,"  Katrine  says,  with 
dignity. 

"  Oh,  it  is  the  merest  trifle,"  the  captain  rejoins, 
changing  colour,  and  tugging  at  his  moustache. 

"  The  affair  is  very  simple,  madame,"  Rohritz 
interposes.  "  Les  felt  it  his  duty,  lately, — the  day 
before  yesterday,  in  fact, — to  chastise  an  impertinent 
scoundrel  in  Hraduyk,  and  has  conscientiously  kept 
at  home  since,  awaiting  the  fellow's  challenge, — 
of  course  in  vain.  What  he  should  have  done 
would  have  been  to  emphasize  in  a  note  the  box 
on  the  ear  he  administered." 


280  ERLACH  COURT. 

"  Yes,  that's  true,"  says  the  captain :  "  it  is  a 
pity  that  it  did  not  occur  to  me." 

Freddy  has  gradually  subsided.  As  during  his 
tearful  misery  he  has  done  a  great  deal  of  rub- 
bing at  his  eyes  with  inky  fingers,  his  cheeks  are 
now  streaked  with  black,  and  he  is  sent  oft*  by  his 
mother  with  a  smile,  in  charge  of  a  servant,  to  be 
washed. 

"Might  I  be  informed,"  she  asks,  after  the 
door  has  closed  upon  the  child,  and  with  a  rather 
mistrustful  glance  at  her  husband,  "  what  the  indi- 
vidual at  Hradnyk  did  to  provoke  the  chastisement 
in  question  ?" 

"  'Tis  not  worth  the  telling,  Katrine,"  stammers 
the  captain.  "  Why  should  you  care  to  know  any- 
thing about  it  ?" 

"  You  are  very  wrong,  Les,  to  make  any  secret 
of  it,"  Rohritz  interposes.  "  The  scoundrel  under- 
took to  use  certain  expressions  which  irritated  Les, 
with  regard  to  you,  madame." 

"  With  regard  to  me  ?"  Katrine  exclaims,  with  a 
contemptuous  curl  of  her  lip.  "  What  could  any 
one  say  about  me  ?" 

"  What,  indeed  ?"  the  captain  repeats.  "  Well,  I 
will  tell  you  all  about  it  some  time  when  we  are 
alone,  if  you  insist  upon  it.  It  was  a  silly  affair 
altogether,  but  I  took  the  matter  to  heart." 

"  You  Hotspur!"  Katrine  laughs. 

Rohritz  has  just  turned  to  slip  out  of  the  room 


A   STORM  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES.          281 

arid  leave  the  pair  to  a  reconciliatory  tete-a-tete,  when 
the  door  opens,  and  a  servant  announces  that  the 
sleigh  is  ready. 

"  Where  are  you  going?"  Katrine  asks,  hastily, 
in  an  altered  tone,  as  the  servant  withdraws. 

"  I  was  going  to  Glockenstein,  to  take  the  'Maitrc 
de  Forges'  to  the  grass-widow;  she  asked  me  for  it 
yesterday ;  but  if  you  wish,  Katrine,  I  will  stay  at 
home." 

"If  I  wish,"  Katrine  coldly  repeats.  "Since 
when  have  I  attempted  to  interfere  in  any  way  with 
your  innocent  amusements  ?" 

"  I  only  thought you  have  sometimes  seemed 

to  me  a  little  jealous  of  the  grass-widow." 

Rohritz  could  have  boxed  his  friend's  ears  for  his 
want  of  tact.  Katrine's  aristocratic  features  take 
on  an  indescribably  haughty  and  contemptuous  ex- 
pression. 

"  Jealous? — I?"  she  rejoins,  with  cutting  severity, 
adding,  with  a  shrug,  "  on  the  contrary,  I  am  glad 
to  have  another  woman  relieve  me  of  the  trouble  of 
entertaining  you." 

Tame  submission  to  such  words  from  his  wife, 
and  before  a  witness,  is  not  the  part  of  a  hot-blooded 
soldier  like  Jack  Leskjewitsch. 

"  Adieu,  Rohritz  !"  he  says,  and,  with  a  low  bow 
to  his  wife,  he  leaves  the  room. 

For  an  instant  Katrine  seems  about  to  run  after 
him  and  bring  him  back.  She  takes  one  step 

24* 


282  ERLACH  COURT. 

towards  the  door,  then  pauses  undecided.  The 
sharp,  shrill  sound  of  sleigh-hells  rises  from  with- 
out through  the  wintry  silence :  the  sleigh  has 
driven  off.  Katrine  goes  to  the  window  to  look 
after  it.  With  lightning  speed  it  glides  along,  the 
centre  of  a  bluish,  sparkling  cloud  of  snow-particles 
whirled  aloft  by  the  trampling  horses.  It  is  out  of 
sight  almost  immediately. 

Her  head  bent,  Katrine  turns  from  the  window, 

and  leaves  the  room  with  lagging  steps. 

*  ****** 

The  menu  for  dinner  comprises  the  captain's 
favourite  dish  of  roast  pheasants,  but  six  o'clock 
strikes  and  the  master  of  the  house  has  not  yet 
arrived  at  home. 

"  "Would  it  not  be  better  to  postpone  the  dinner 
a  little  for  to-day?"  Katrine  asks  Rohritz,  for 
form's  sake.  They  wait  one  hour, — two  hours : 
the  captain  does  not  appear.  At  last  Katrine  or- 
ders dinner  to  be  served.  Unable  to  eat  a  morsel, 
she  sits  with  an  empty  plate  before  her,  hardly 
speaking  a  word. 

The  meal  is  over,  coffee  has  been  served,  Freddy 
has  played  three  games  of  cards  with  his  tutor  and 
then  disappeared  with  a  very  sleepy  face. 

Katrine  and  Rohritz  sit  opposite  each  other,  each 
taking  great  pains  to  appear  unconcerned.  One 
quarter  of  an  hour  after  another  passes  without  a 
word  exchanged  between  them.  Suddenly  Katrine 


A   STORM  AND   ITS  CONSEQUENCES.         283 

rises,  goes  to  the  window,  opens  first  the  inner 
shutter  and  then  the  peep-hole  in  the  other. 

"  Listen  how  the  wind  roars !"  she  says,  in  a 
hoarse,  subdued  voice,  to  Rohritz.  "  And  the 
snow  is  falling  as  if  a  feather  bed  had  been  cut 
in  two." 

Rohritz  is  really  unable  to  smile,  as  he  would 
have  been  tempted  to  do  at  any  other  time,  at  the 
contrast  between  Katrine's  deeply  tragic  air  and 
her  very  commonplace  comparison:  he  is  rather 
anxious  himself. 

"  Hark !  just  hark  how  the  wind  whistles !  I 
hope  Jack  has  not  got  wedged  in  a  snow-drift." 

Rohritz  makes  some  reply  which  Katrine  does 
not  heed.  In  increasing  agitation  she  paces  the 
room  to  and  fro. 

"  The  worst  place  is  the  bit  of  road  near  the 
quarry,"  she  murmurs  to  herself.  "  If  he  goes  a 
hand's-breadth  too  far  on  one  side,  then " 

"  Les  has  a  remarkable  sense  of  locality,  and  is 
the  best  'whip  I  know,"  Rohritz  remarks,  sooth- 
ingly. 

She  is  silent,  compresses  her  lips,  listens  at  the 
window,  hearkens  to  the  raging  wind,  which  drives 
the  snow-flakes  against  the  shutters  and  tears  and 
rattles  at  the  boughs  of  the  giant  linden  until  they 
shriek  from  out  their  long  winter  sleep. 

How  much  we  are  able  to  forgive  a  man  when 
we  are  anxious  about  him  ! 


284  ERLACH  COURT. 

"  I  would  rather  send  some  one  to  meet  him," 
she  stammers.  "I  am  exceedingly  anxious." 

She  reaches  out  her  hand  for  the  bell-rope,  when 
suddenly  from  the  far  distance,  like  mocking,  elfin 
laughter,  comes  the  tinkle  of  sleigh-hells.  Katrine 
holds  her  breath,  listens.  The  sleigh  approaches, 
draws  up  before  the  door.  Rohritz  goes  out  into 
the  hall.  Katrine  hears  a  man  stamping  the  snow 
from  his  boots,  hears  the  captain's  fresh,  cheery  voice 
as  he  answers  his  friend's  questions.  Her  anxiety 
is  converted  into  a  sensation  of  great  bitterness. 
She  cannot  rally  herself  too  much  for  her  childish 
anxiety,  cannot  forgive  herself  for  behaving  so  ri- 
diculously before  Rohritz.  Whilst  she  has  been 
fancying  her  husband  lost  in  a  snow-drift,  he  beyond 
all  doubt  has  been  admirably  entertained  with  the 
grass-widow. 

The  door  opens ;  the  captain  appears  alone,  with- 
out his  comrade. 

"  Still  up,  Katrine  ?"  he  asks,  in  a  gentle  under- 
tone, approaching  his  wife,  and  with  an  uncertain, 
half-embarrassed  smile  he  adds,  "  Rohritz  told  me 
you  were  anxious  about — about  me."  As  he  speaks 
he  tries  to  take  his  wife's  hand  to  draw  her  towards 
him ;  but  Katrine  avoids  him. 

"  Rohritz  was  mistaken,"  she  rejoins,  very  dryly. 
"  For  a  moment  I  thought  you  might  have  fallen 
into  the  quarry,  because  I  could  not  see  any  ap- 
parent reason  for  your  late  return.  But  as  for 


A  STORM  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES.         285 

anxiety "  Without  finishing  the  sentence,  she 

shrugs  her  shoulders. 

The  captain  smiles  bitterly,  and  passes  his  hand 
across  his  forehead. 

"  Yes,  he  was  evidently  mistaken ;  it  was  an  at- 
tempt to  bring  us  together,"  he  murmurs ;  "  his 
sentimental  representation  did  at  first  seem  rather 
incredible  to  me.  But  what  one  wishes  to  believe 
one  does  believe  so  easily !  I  was  foolish  enough 
to  delight  in  the  hope  of  a  kindly  welcome  from 
you ;  but,  in  fact,  in  comparison  with  the  reception 
you.  have  vouchsafed  me  the  weather  outside  is 
genial." 

He  seats  himself  astride  of  a  low  chair,  and  be- 
gins to  drum  impatiently  upon  the  back  of  it. 

"  It  seems  to  me  quite  late  enough  to  go  to  bed," 
says  Katrine,  taking  a  silver  candlestick  from  the 
mantel-piece.  "  It  is  a  quarter-past  ten." 

Suddenly  the  captain  grasps  her  by  the  wrist. 
"  Stay !"  he  says,  sternly. 

"  You  have  come  back  in  a  very  bad  humour," 
Katrine  remarks,  with  a  contemptuous  smile.  "  The 
grass-widow  must  have  proved  unkind.  Your  de- 
lay in  returning  led  me  to  suppose  the  contrary." 

The  captain  looks  at  his  wife  with  an  odd  ex- 
pression. Was  it  possible  she  could  take  sufficient 
interest  in  him  to  be  jealous  ? 

"  I  have  not  seen  the  grass-widow,"  he  rejoins, 
after  a  short  pause. 


286  ERLACH  COURT. 

"  That  is,  you  did  not  find  her  at  home  ?  How 
very  sad !" 

"  I  did  not  go  to  Glockenstein." 

"  Ah,  indeed !     I  thought " 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  he  said,  with  an  air  of 
bravado.  "  After  the  very  kind  and  choice  words 
with  which  in  the  presence  of  an  auditor  you  dis- 
missed me,  I  certainly  whipped  up  the  horses  in 
order  to  reach  Glockenstein  with  all  speed.  When 
angels  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  us,  we  are  fain 
to  go  for  consolation  to  the  devil :  he  is  sure  to  be 
at  hand.  Frau  Euprecht  would  have  received  me 
with  open  arms ;  I  am  by  no  means" — with  a  forced 
laugh — "  so  insignificant  in  her  eyes;  for  her  I  am 
quite  a  hero,  and — what  would  .you  have?  she  is 
stupid,  but  she  is  pretty  and  young,  and  an  amount 
of  consideration  from  any  woman  flatters  a  poor 
fellow  who  is  never  without  the  consciousness  of 
his  inferiority  in  the  eyes  of  his  clever  wife  at 
home." 

"  Ah !  really  ?"  Katrine  sneers.  "  May  I  beg 
you  to  make  a  little  haste  with  your  explanations  ? 
— the  lamp  is  beginning  to  burn  dimly." 

"  It  burns  quite  well  enough  for  what  I  have 
to  say,"  replies  the  captain.  "  I  whipped  up  my 
horses,  as  I  said, — I  was  positively  in  a  hurry  to 
fall  at  the  Ruprecht's  feet ;  but,  just  at  the  last 
moment,  so  many  different  things  occurred  to  me ! 
Glockenstein  was  in  sight,  but  I  turned  aside,  and 


A   STORM  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES.         287 

then  drove  over  to  Reitzenberg's  to  settle  with  him 
about  the  wood." 

"  Ah !  It  seems  to  have  been  a  very  protracted 
business  discussion." 

"  I  took  supper  with  Reitzenberg,  and  played  a 
game  of  cards  afterwards." 

"  Hm !  Since,  then,  you  have  perhaps  suffi- 
ciently explained  the  reason  of  your  delay,  will 
you  permit  me  to  withdraw  ?"  Katrine  asks. 

"  Apparently  you  do  not  believe  me.  And  yet 
you  ought  to  know  that  falsehood  is  not  to  be 
reckoned  among  my  bad  qualities." 

"True;  but" — Katrine  shrugs  her  shoulders — 
"  no  man  hesitates  to  improvise  a  little  when 
there's  a  lady  in  the  case.  I  should  like  to  know, 
however,  why  you  take  so  much  trouble  in  the 
present  instance  for  me,  who  have  so  little  interest 
in  such  things."  And,  taking  the  candlestick  once 
more  from  the  chimney-piece,  she  asks,  "  Can  I  go 
now?  Have  you  finished?" 

"  No,"  he  exclaims,  angrily,  "  I  have  not  finished, 
and  you  will  hearken  to  me.  Matters  are  come  to 
a  worse  pass  than  you  fancy;  our  whole  existence 
is  at  stake.  You  know  how  my  sister  Lina's  mar- 
riage turned  out,  and  you  are  in  a  fair  way  to 
plunge  me  into  the  same  misery  into  which  Franz 
Meineck  was  thrust  by  his  wife." 

"  Your  comparison  of  me  to  your  sister  seems  to 
me  rather  forced,"  Katrine  replies.  "  I  know  it  is 


288  ERLACH  COURT. 

not  pleasant  to  hear  one's  relatives  criticised  by 
another,  however  we  may  disapprove  of  them  our- 
selves, but  I  must  defend  myself.  Your  sister  neg- 
lected her  household  and  her  children,  giving  her- 
self over  to  a  ridiculous  ambition ;  whilst  I " 

She  hesitates,  deterred  from  proceeding  by  some- 
thing in  the  captain's  look  : 

"  Whilst  you "  he  begins.  "  I  know  perfectly 

well  what  you  would  say.  Your  household  is  per- 
fectly attended  to,  you  are  an  ideal  mother,  and 
daintily  neat.  In  a  word,  you  would  have  been 
for  me  the  ideal  wife  if  you  had  ever  shown  me  a 
particle  of  affection." 

"  I  have  always  done  my  duty  by  you." 

"  Your  hard,  prescribed,  bounden  duty." 

"  You  could  not  expect  anything  more  of  me. 
When  we  married  it  was  agreed  between  us  that 
each  should  be  satisfied  with  a  sensible  amount 
of  friendship." 

He  has  risen,  and  is  gazing  at  her  keenly,  search- 
ingly. 

"  That  is  true  ;  you  are  right,"  he  says,  bitterly. 
"  The  sad  thing  about  it  is  that  I  had  forgotten  it !" 

"  I  cannot  understand  how  you — I  must  say  I 
never  have  observed — that  you " 

"  Indeed  ?  You  never  have  observed  that  I  have 
long  ceased  to  keep  my  part  of  our  compact !"  the 
captain  exclaims.  "  Really  ?  Women  are  fabu- 
lously blind  when  they  do  not  choose  to  see.  Do 


A  SLEEPLESS  NIGHT.  289 

you  suppose  I  should  have  allowed  the  reins  to  be 
taken  from  my  hands,  do  you  suppose  I  should 
have  resigned  my  authority  over  you,  have  lost  the 
right  of  disposing  of  my  own  child,  and  have  aban- 
doned my  profession,  if — if  I  had  not  fallen  in  love 
with  you  like  a  very  school-boy !  There !  now 
despise  me  doubly  for  my  confession,  and  until 
you  see  me  stifling  in  the  mire,  like  poor  Franz 
Meineck,  console  yourself  with  the  conviction  that 
you  have  done  your  duty  by  me." 

He  makes  her  a  profound  bow,  then  turns  and 
leaves  the  room. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

A  SLEEPLESS   NIGHT. 

"  UNTIL  you  see  me  stifling  in  the  mire,  like  poor 
Franz  Meineck,  console  yourself  with  the  convic- 
tion that  you  have  done  your  duty  by  me." 

Strange  how  deeply  these  words  are  impressed 
upon  Katrine's  soul !  She  does  not  sleep  during 
the  night  following  upon  the  captain's  explanation, 
no,  not  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 

She  tosses  about  restlessly  in  bed ;  a  moonbeam 
which  has  contrived  to  slip  through  a  crack  in  her 
shutters  points  at  her  with  uncanny  persistency, 
w  t  25 


290  ERLACH  COURT. 

like  an  accusing  ghostly  finger.  The  little  clock 
on  her  writing-table  strikes  twelve;  the  sixth  of 
January  is  past,  the  seventh  of  January  has  begun. 
The  seventh  of  January  !  It  was  her  wedding-day. 
On  the  seventh  of  January  nine  years  before,  with- 
out a  spark  of  love  for  Jack  Leskjewitsch,  but 
with  the  angry  memory  of  humiliation  suffered  at 
another's  hands,  she  had  donned  her  gown  of 
bridal  white  and  her  bridal  wreath  had  been  placed 
upon  her  head.  In  her  inmost  soul  she  had  com- 
pared her  bridal  robes  to  a  shroud,  and  so  cold,  so 
white,  so  stern,  had  she  looked  on  that  day  that 
those  who  helped  to  dress  her  for  the  sacred  cere- 
mony had  often  said  later  that  they  had  seemed  to 
themselves  to  be  preparing  a  corpse  for  burial, 
while  all  who  witnessed  the  marriage  declared 
that  no  funeral  could  have  been  sadder. 

She  had  first  known  Jack  on  her  father's,  the 

Freiherr  von  Rinsky's,  estate  in  M .    Quartered 

at  the  castle,  Jack  had  soon  ingratiated  himself  with 
its  gouty  old  master.  Katrine  did  not  dislike  him, 
— nay,  she  rather  liked  him.  Her  pride,  which  had 
been  suffering  from  the  destruction  of  her  illusions 
ever  since  the  winter  she  had  spent  with  her  aunt 
in  Pesth  three  years  before,  turned  with  a  bitter- 
ness that  bordered  on  disgust  from  all  the  homage 
paid  her  by  men.  Jack  Leskjewitsch  had  always 
been  attentive  to  her  without  ever  making  love  to 
her, — which  attracted  her.  When  he  asked  her 


A  SLEEPLESS  NIGHT.  £91 

to  marry  him  he  did  it  in  so  dry,  odd  a  way  that 
from  sheer  surprise  she  did  not  at  once  say  no. 

She  replied  that  she  would  take  his  offer  into 
consideration.  Living  beneath  the  same  roof  with 
a  young  stepmother  whom  she  did  not  like,  and 
who  ruled  her  father,  the  suit  of  a  wealthy,  thor- 
oughly honourable  man  was  not  to  be  lightly  re- 
jected. Yet  if  he  had  wooed  her  passionately  and 
tenderly  she  would  surely  have  refused  to  listen  to 
him.  This,  however,  he  did  not  do. 

When  she  confessed  to  him  that  a  bitter  disap- 
pointment had  paralyzed  all  the  sentiment  she  had 
ever  possessed,  that  he  was  not  to  expect  any  love 
from  her,  he  received  the  confession  with  the 
utmost  calmness,  and  replied  that  he  too  had 
nothing  to  offer  her  save  cordial  friendship. 

"  Those  of  my  friends  who  married  for  love 
are  one  and  all  wretched  now.  Let  us  try  it  after 
another  fashion,"  he  had  said  to  her.  And  thus, 
almost  with  a  laugh,  without  the  slightest  emo- 
tion, they  had  been  betrothed  on  a  gray,  rainy 
November  day,  when  the  winds  were  raging  as  if 
they  had  sworn  to  blow  out  the  sun's  light  in 
the  skies,  wrhile  the  last  field-daisies  were  hanging 
their  heads  among  the  faded  raeadow-grass  as  if 
tired  of  life. 

Six  weeks  afterwards  they  were  married,  and 
took  the  usual  trip  to  Rome  and  from  one  hotel 
to  another. 


292  ERLACH  COURT. 

The  pale  moonbeam  still  pointed  at  her  like  an 
accusing  finger ;  its  silver  light  fell  upon  her  past 
and  revealed  many  things  which  she  had  heedlessly 
forgotten  during  the  nine  years  which  now  lay 
behind  her. 

She  had  married  poor,  very  poor, — had  brought 
her  husband  nothing  save  her  trousseau. 

All  the  material  comfort  of  her  existence  came 
from  him.  To  show  him  any  special  gratitude 
for  that  would  indeed  have  been  petty ;  but,  put- 
ting it  aside,  with  how  much  consideration  he  had 
always  treated  her !  how  carefully  he  had  removed 
from  her  path  all  need  for  trouble  and  exertion, 
with  the  tenderness  which  rude  soldiers  alone  know 
how  to  lavish  upon  their  wives.  She  had  com- 
plained of  the  inconveniences  of  the  nomadic  life 
of  the  army ;  but  who  had  drained  all  those  incon- 
veniences to  the  dregs  ?  He !  He  had  taken  all 
trouble  upon  himself.  In  their  wanderings  she  and 
the  child  had  been  cared  for  like  the  most  frail 
and  precious  treasures,  upon  the  transportation  of 
which  it  was  impossible  to  bestow  too  much  thought. 
It  had  always  been,  "  Spare  yourself,  and  look  out 
for  the  boy  !"  and  either  "  It  is  too  hot,"  or  "  It  is 
too  cold:  you  might  be  ill,  or  you  might  take 
cold;  but  do  not  stir.  I  will  see  to  it;  rely  upon 
me!" 

Yes,  she  had  indeed  relied  upon  him ;  he  looked 
after  everything,  w  thout  any  words,  without  annoy- 


A  SLEEPLESS  NIGHT.  293 

ing  her  with  restlessness,  quietly,  simply,  and  as  if 
it  could  not  have  been  otherwise. 

And  what  had  she  done  for  him  in  return  for 
all  his  care  and  consideration?  She  had  kept  his 
home  in  order,  had  treated  him  with  more  or  less 
friendliness,  had  never  flirted  in  the  least  with  any 
other  man,  and  had  presented  him  with  a  charming 
child. 

But  no ;  she  had  not  even  presented  him  with  it : 
she  had  jealously  kept  it  for  herself,  had  grudged 
him  every  caress  which  the  boy  bestowed  upon  his 
father;  she  had  spoiled  the  child  in  order  that  she 
might  hold  the  first  place  in  his  heart.  Yet,  oddly 
enough,  in  spite  of  all  her  indulgence  the  boy  was 
fonder  of  his  fiery,  irritable,  good-humoured,  but 
strict  papa  whose  nod  he  obeyed,  than  of  herself, 
whom  the  young  gentleman  could  wind  around  his 
finger.  She  confessed  this  to  herself,  not  without 
bitterness. 

TVhen,  the  previous  autumn,  Erlach  Court  had 
come  to  her  by  inheritance  from  a  grand-uncle,  she 
was  filled  with  a  desire  to  break  off  all  connection 
with  an  army  life.  Without  the  slightest  consider- 
ation for  her  husband,  she  had  left  him  and  forced 
him  for  her  sake  to  adopt  an  existence  that  was 
contrary  to  all  his  habits  and  tastes.  The  moon- 
beam still  penetrated  into  her  room:  it  grew  brighter 
and  brighter,  and  at  last  lit  up  the  most  secluded 
corner  of  her  heart. 


294  ERLACH  COURT. 

"  Until  you  see  me  stifling  in  the  mire,  like  poor 
Franz  Meineck,  console  yourself  with  the  con- 
viction that  you  have  done  your  duty  by  me." 

Again  and  again  the  words  echoed  through  her 
soul. 

"  I  have  done  my  duty  by  him,"  she  repeated  to 
herself,  with  the  obstinacy  with  which  we  are 
wont  to  clutch  a  self-illusion  that  threatens  to 
vanish.  "  I  have  done  my  duty." 

Suddenly  she  trembles  from  head  to  foot,  and, 
hiding  her  face  in  the  pillow,  she  bursts  into  tears. 

The  boundless  egotism,  in  all  its  petty  childish- 
ness, which  has  informed  her  intercourse  with  her 
husband  flashes  upon  her  conscience. 

How  is  it  that  she  has  never  perceived  that  he  has 
long  since  ceased  to  perform  his  part  of  their  agree- 
ment? Little  tokens  of  affection  full  of  a  timid 
poetry  hitherto  heedlessly  overlooked  now  occur 
to  her.  Why  had  she  not  understood  them  ? 
Why  had  she  never  felt  a  spark  of  love  for  him  ? 
Her  cheeks  burn.  She  had  continually  reproached 
her  husband  with  never  being  done  with  his  il- 
lusions, and  she In  a  secret  drawer  of  her 

writing-table  there  is  at  this  very  moment,  shriv- 
elled and  faded,  a  gardenia  which  she  has  never 
been  able  to  bring  herself  to  destroy.  She 
springs  up,  lights  a  candle,  hastens  to  her  writing- 
table,  finds  the  ugly  brown  relic, — and  burns  it. 
When  she  lies  down  in  bed  again  the  admonitory 


GLOWING  EMBERS.  295 

moonbeam  has  vanished,  but  through  the  cold 
black  of  the  winter  night  filters  the  first  weak  shim- 
mer of  the  dawn.  The  dreamy  ding-dong  of  a 
church  bell  among  the  mountains  ringing  for  early 
mass  has  the  peaceful  sound  of  a  sacred  morning 
serenade  as  it  floats  into  her  room. 

It  is  barely  six  o'clock.  She  folds  her  hands, 
a  fervent  prayer  rises  to  her  lips,  and,  with  a  still 
more  fervent,  unspoken  prayer  in  her  heart,  her 
brown  head  sinks  back  upon  the  cool  white  pillow, 
and  she  falls  asleep. 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

GLOWING   EMBERS. 

"  PAPA  is  lazy  to-day,"  Freddy  remarks  the  next 
morning,  breaking  the  silence  that  reigns  at  the 
breakfast-table  and  looking  pensively  at  his  father's 
empty  chair.  It  is  late,  Freddy  has  drunk  his 
milk,  and  Rohritz  and  the  tutor  are  engaged  with 
their  second  cup  of  tea.  The  host,  usually  so 
early,  has  not  yet  made  his  appearance. 

"  You  ought  not  to  make  such  remarks  about 
papa,"  Katrine  corrects  her  son  on  this  occasion, 
although  she  is  usually  very  indulgent  to  Freddy's 


296  ERLACH  COURT. 

impertinence.  "  Kim  up  to  his  room  and  tell  him 
I  sent  you  to  ask  whether  he  took  cold  last  even- 
ing, and  if  he  would  not  like  a  cup  of  tea  sent  to 
him."  In  two  minutes  the  hoy  returns,  shouting 
gaily,  "  Papa  sends  you  word  that  he  does  not 
want  anything;  he  has  nothing  but  a  bad  cold  in 
his  head,  and  he  is  coming  presently." 

In  fact,  the  captain  follows  close  upon  the  heels 
of  his  pretty  little  messenger. 

"I  was  troubled  about  you,"  Katrine  says,  re- 
ceiving him  with  a  sort  of  timid  kindness  which 
seems  painfully  forced. 

"  Indeed  ?  Very  kind  of  you,"  he  makes  reply, 
in  a  very  hoarse  voice, — "  but  quite  unnecessary." 

"  You  seem,  however,  to  have  taken  cold,"  Roh- 
ritz  interposes. 

"  Pshaw !  'tis  nothing.  I  lost  my  way  in  the 
dark  last  night,  and  got  into  a  drift  this  side  of 

K :   that's  all. — Well,  Katrine,  am  I  to  have 

my  tea?" 

"  I  have  just  made  you  some  fresh;  the  first  was 
beginning  to  be  bitter,"  she  makes  excuse.  "  Wait 
a  moment." 

The  captain  is  about  to  reply,  but  a  fit  of 
coughing  interrupts  him. 

"  Papa  barks  as  Hector  does  at  the  full  moon," 
Freddy  remarks,  merrily. 

Katrine  frowns.  Why  does  Freddy  seem  so 
thoroughly  spoiled  to-day  ? 


GLOWING  EMBERS.  297 

"  I  told  yon  just  now  that  it  is  very  wrong  in 
you  to  speak  in  that  way  of  your  father." 

"Let  him  do  it;  papa  knows  what  he  means," 
the  captain  replies,  turning  to  his  little  son  sitting 
beside  him  rather  than  to  his  wife.  "  You're  fond 
enough  of  papa, — love  him  pretty  well, — eh,  my 
boy  ?" 

"  Oh,  don't  I?"  says  Freddy,  nestling  close  to 
bis  father ;  "  don't  I  ?"  That  any  one  could  doubt 
this  fact  evidently  amazes  him.  The  captain  talks 
and  plays  merrily  with  the  boy,  never  addressing  a 
single  word  to  Katrine. 

Breakfast  is  over.  For  an  hour  Katrine  has 
been  sitting  in  her  room,  some  sewing  which  has 
dropped  from  her  hands  lying  in  her  lap,  listening 
and  waiting  for  his  step, — in  vain.  Another  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  glides  by :  her  heart  throbs  louder 
and  louder,  and  tears  fill  her  eyes.  Suddenly  she 
tosses  her  work  aside,  rises,  and  with  head  erect, 
looking  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left,  walks 
with  firm,  rapid  steps  along  the  corridor  to  the 
captain's  room.  At  the  door  she  pauses, — pauses 
for  one  short  moment, — then  boldly  turns  the  latch 
and  enters.  Is  he  there  ?  Yes,  he  is  standing  at 
the  window,  looking  out  upon  the  quiet,  white 
landscape.  Eather  surprised,  he  looks  back  over 
his  shoulder  at  his  wife,  for  he  knows  it  is  she  :  he 
could  recognize  her  step  among  a  thousand. 

"  Do  you  want  anything  ?"  he  asks,  dryly. 


298  ERLACH  COURT. 

"N— no." 

The  captain  turns  again  to  the  snowy  landscape. 

"  What  are  you  gazing  at  so  steadily  ?"  Katrine 
asks  him.  "  Is  there  anything  particularly  inter- 
esting to  be  seen  out  there  ?" 

"  No,"  he  replies ;  '•  but  when  the  room  is  cheer- 
less, one  looks  out  of  the  window  for  diversion." 

A  pause  ensues. 

"  What  shall  I  say  to  him  ?  what  can  I  say  to 
him?"  she  asks  herself,  uneasily.  The  blood 
mounts  to  her  cheeks ;  she  stands  rooted  to  the 
spot,  not  venturing  to  approach  him.  At  last, 
she  begins  with  all  the  indifference  at  her  com- 
mand, "  You  have  forgotten  our  wedding-day  to- 
day, for  the  first  time.  Strange !" 

"  Very,"  the  captain  rejoins,  with  bitter  irony. 

Another  pause  ensues.  Katrine  is  just  about 
to  withdraw,  mortified,  when  the  captain  again 
turns  to  her. 

"  I  did  not  forget.  No,  I  do  not  forget  such 
things;  and,  if  you  care  to  know,  I  had  provided 
the  yearly,  touching  surprise  in  celebration  of  the 
anniversary ;  but  I  suppressed  it  at  the  very  last 
moment." 

"  And  why  ?" 

"  Why?  A  woman  of  your  superior  sense  should 
be  able  to  answer  that  question  herself.  After 
having  been  laughed  at  eight  times  for  my  well- 
meant  attentions,  I  said  to  myself  finally  that  it 


GLOWING  EMBERS.  299 

was  useless  to  serve  for  the  ninth  time  as  a  target 
for  your  sarcasm." 

She  comes  a  step  nearer  to  him. 

"  I  had  no  desire  to  laugh  to-day." 

"  Indeed !  Hm  !  then  you  can  open  the  packet 
on  my  writing-table.  I  had  the  boy  photographed 
for  you,  and  the  picture  turned  out  very  well." 

She  opens  the  packet.  'Tis  a  perfect  picture, 
— Freddy  himself,  bright,  wayward,  charming,  one 
hand  upon  his  hip,  his  fur  cap  on  his  head. 

"  He  is  a  beauty,  our  boy !"  she  exclaims,  smiling 
down  upon  the  picture  in  its  simple  frame. 

"  Our  boy  !"  the  captain  murmurs.  "  You  are 
immensely  gracious  to-day ;  you  usually  speak  of 
him  as  if  he  belonged  to  you  only." 

Katrine  blushes  a  little,  but,  without  apparently 
noticing  this  last  remark,  says,  "  He  begins  to  look 
like  you,  the  dear  little  fellow !" 

"  Indeed  ?  Tis  a  pity " 

"  You  really  would  do  better  to  sit  by  the  fire 
and  warm  yourself  than  to  stand  shivering  at  that 
cold  window." 

"  The  fire  has  gone  out,  and  there  is  small  com- 
fort in  sitting  by  the  ashes." 

"  You  ought  to  have  made  the  fire  burn  afresh." 

"I  tried  to,"  he  replied,  with  significant  em- 
phasis, "  but  I  failed." 

"  Really !"  she  says,  laughing  archly  in  the  midst 
of  her  vexation ;  "  you  must  have  tried  very  awk- 


300  ERLACH  COURT. 

wardly.  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  there  are  embers 
enough  under  the  ashes  to  set  Rome  on  fire.  I 
should  like  to  see." 

She  kneels  upon  the  hearth,  scrapes  together  the 
embers,  and  with  great  skill  and  precision  piles 
three  logs  of  wood  on  top  of  them.  One  minute 
later  the  wood  is  burning  with  a  clear  flame. 

"Jack!"  she  calls,  very  gently. 

He  starts,  and  looks  round. 

"  Jack,  is  the  fire  burning  brightly  enough  for 
you  now  ?"  she  asks. 

As  in  a  dream  he  approaches  her. 

"Now  sit  down,"  she  says,  in  a  tone  of  ga}r 
command,  pulling  forward  a  large,  comfortable 
arm-chair,  "  and  warm  yourself." 

He  obeys,  looking  down  at  her  half  in  surprise, 
half  in  tenderness,  as  she  kneels  beside  him, 
slender,  graceful,  wonderfully  fair  to  see,  with  the 
reflection  from  the  fire  crimsoning  her  cheeks  and 
lending  a  golden  lustre  to  her  light-brown  hair. 

Her  breath  comes  quick,  as  it  does  when  there 
is  something  in  the  heart,  longing  for  utterance, 
which  will  not  rise  to  the  lips.  She  had  thought 
out  so  many  fine  phrases  early  this  morning  in 
which  to  clothe  her  repentance,  but  they  all  stick 
fast  in  her  throat. 

The  bell  rings  for  lunch.  Good  heavens  !  is  this 
moment  to  pass  without  sealing  their  reconcilia- 
tion ? 


GLOWING  EMBERS.  301 

He  sits  mute.  The  wood  in  the  chimney  crackles 
loudly,  sometimes  with  a  noise  almost  like  a  pistol- 
shot. 

Katrine  still  kneels  before  the  fire,  growing  more 
and  more  restless.  On  a  sudden  she  throws  back 
her  head,  and,  casting  off  the  unnatural  degree 
of  feminine  gentleness  which  has  characterized  her 
all  the  morning,  she  exclaims  angrily,  her  eyes 
flashing  through  burning  tears,  "  What  would  you 
have,  Jack  ?  How  far  must  I  go  before  you  come 
to  meet  me  ?" 

"  Oh,  Katrine,  my  darling,  wayward  Katrine !" 
the  captain  almost  shouts,  clasping  her  in  his  arms. 
"  At  last  I  know  that  'tis  no  deceitful  dream  mock- 
ing me!" 

A  light  tripping  step  is  heard  in  the  corridor. 
Both  spring  up  as  Freddy's  merry  little  face  ap- 
pears at  the  door : 

"  Lunch  is  growing  cold." 
******* 

In  the  evening,  as  the  couple  are  sitting  in  the 
drawing-room  in  the  twilight,  Katrine  says, — 

"  If  only  there  were  no  such  thing  as  war !" 

"What  makes  you  think  of  that?"  asks  the 
captain. 

"  Why,  because  I  should  beg  you  to  go  back  to 
the  service,  if  I  were  not  so  mortally  afraid  of  a 
campaign." 

"  No  need  to  take  that  into  consideration,"  the 
26 


302  ERLACH  COURT. 

captain  rejoins,  "  for  in  case  of  war  I  should  go 
back  immediately:  not  even  you  could  prevent 
me,  Kitty.  But  tell  me,  could  you  really  summon 
up  courage  enough  ?" 

"  Could  I  not  ?  It  will  be  very  hard  eventually 
to  part  from  the  boy,  but  sooner  or  later  we  must 
send  him  to  the  Theresianeum,  and — to  speak 
frankly — even  a  separation  from  Freddy  would 
not  distress  me  so  much  as  to  see  you  degenerate 
in  an  inactive  life." 

"You  really  would,  then,  Kitty  ? — would  volun- 
tarily subject  yourself  again  to  all  the  inconve- 
niences and  petty  miseries  of  the  soldier's  nomadic 
life?" 

<r  Try  me,"  and  her  large  eyes  are  very  serious 
and  determined  as  they  look  into  his  own,  "  try 
me,  and  you  shall  see  what  a  comfortable  home 
I  will  make  for  you  in  the  forlornest  Hungarian 
village." 

"  Ah,  you  angel !"  her  husband  exclaims,  taking 
her  soft  little  hand  in  his  and  pressing  it  against 
his  cheek.  "  What  a  pity  it  is  that  we  have  lost 
so  much  time  in  all  these  nine  years !" 

"  A  pity  indeed,"  she  admits,  "  but  'tis  never  too 
late  to  mend, — eh  ?" 

At  this  moment  Rohritz  enters  the  room,  as  is 
usual  at  this  hour  every  afternoon,  to  get  a  cup  of 
tea.  He  observes,  first,  that  the  pair  have  forgotten 
to  ring  for  the  lamp,  and,  secondly,  that  they  stop 


THERESE,    THE   WISE.  3Q3 

talking  upon  his  entrance ;  in  short,  that,  for  the 
first  time,  he  has  intruded. 

"  You  have  come  for  your  tea,"  says  Katrine. 
"  I  had  positively  forgotten  that  there  was  such  a 
thing.  Ring  the  bell,  Jack." 

Before  the  evening  is  over  Edgar  has  made  a 
very  important  discovery, — to  wit,  that  however 
cordially  one  may  rejoice  when  two  human  souls 
after  long  and  aimless  wanderings  come  together 
and  are  united,  any  prolonged  association  with  a 
couple  so  reconciled  is  considerably  more  tedious 
than  with  an  unreconciled  pair;  wherefore  he 
leaves  Erlach  Court  on  the  following  day. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

TH£R£SE,  THE  WISE. 

IN  Therese's  boudoir  are  assembled  four  people, 
Therese,  her  husband,  her  brother  Zino,  and  Edgar, 
— Edgar,  who  on  the  previous  day,  to  the  great 
surprise  of  his  relatives  in  Paris,  was  persuaded 
to  transfer  himself  from  the  Hotel  Bouillemont, 
whither  he  had  gone  upon  his  arrival,  to  the  Ave- 
nue Villiers  and  the  shelter  of  his  brother's  hospi- 
table roof. 

Therese,  exhausted,  more  breathless  than  usual, 


304  ERLACR  COURT. 

is  lying  on  a  lounge,  wrapped  in  a  thick  white 
coverlet,  shivering,  coughing,  feverish,  with  every 
symptom  of  a  violent  cold,  and  disputing  vehe- 
mently with  her  husband  as  to  whether,  as  he 
maintains,  she  caught  the  said  cold  on  Monday  at 
the  Bon-Marche,  or,  as  she  maintains,  on  Tuesday 
in  his  smoking-room. 

" No  one  could  take  cold  in  my  smoking-room; 
it  is  the  only  room  in  the  house  where  the  tem- 
perature is  a  healthy  one,"  Edmund  declares. 
"Judge  for  yourself,  Edgar;  there's  no  getting 
a  sensible  word  out  of  Zino.  How  could  any  one 
catch  cold  in  my  smoking-room  ?  I  know  perfectly 
well  how  she  caught  it.  Day  before  yesterday 
— Monday — there  were  bargains  in  Oriental  rugs 
advertised  at  the  Bon-Marche.  My  wife  rushes 
there  in  such  a  storm " 

"  That  means,  I  drove  there  in  an  hermetically- 
closed  coupe,"  Therese  defends  herself. 

"  Pshaw !  the  damp  air  always  penetrates  into 
every  carriage,"  her  husband  cuts  her  words  short. 
"  The  fact  is,  she  rushed  to  the  Rue  du  Bac,  where 
she  did  not  buy  a  single  rug,  but  instead  a  dozen 
umbrellas,  and  then  came  home  in  a  state  of  ex- 
haustion,— such  exhaustion  that  I  had  positively  to 
carry  her  up-stairs,  because  she  was  unable  to  stir ; 
and  now  she  blames  my  smoking-room  for  her  cold  ! 
It  is  absurd!"  And,  by  way  of  further  expression 
of  his  anger,  for  which  words  do  not  suffice,  Ed- 


THERESE,    THE    WISE.  3Q5 

mund  rattles  the  tongs  about  among  the  embers  on 
the  hearth. 

"  Have  some  regard  for  my  nerves,  Edmund," 
Therese  entreats,  stopping  her  ears  with  her  fingers. 
"You  make  more  noise  than  one  of  Wagner's 
operas.  Twelve  umbrellas !"  Then  turning  to 
Edgar,  "  To  place  the  slightest  dependence  upon 
what  my  husband  says " 

But  before  she  can  finish  her  sentence  Edmund 
breaks  in  again : 

"It   makes  no  difference;  it  might  have  been 

*  '  O 

three  umbrellas  and  six  straw  bonnets  :  it  is  all  the 
same.  Every  Parisian  woman  suffers  from  the 
bargain-mania,  but  I  have  never  seen  the  disease 
developed  to  such  a  degree  as  in  my  wife.  She 
buys  everything  she  comes  across,  if  it  is  only  a 
bargain, — old  iron  rubbish,  new  plans  of  Paris,  em- 
broideries, antique  clocks,  and  bottles  of  rock-crys- 
tal as christening-presents  for  children  who  are 

not  yet  born !" 

"A  propos  of  presents,"  Therese  observes,  reflec- 
tively, "  do  you  not  think,  Zino,  that  the  chandelier 
of  Venetian  glass  I  bought  last  year  would  be  a 
good  wedding-present  for  Stella  Meineck?" 

"  Is  she  betrothed,  then  ?"  Zino  inquires,  natu- 
rally. 

"  As  good  as,"  Therese  assents. 

"  To  whom  ?"  Capito  asks,  sitting  down,  both 
hands  in  his  trousers-pockets,  and  crossing  his  legs. 

u  26* 


306  ERLACH  COURT. 

"  To  Arthur  de  Hauterive, — a  brilliant  match," 
says  Therese. 

"  Cabouat  de  Hauterive,"  murmurs  Zino,  ironi- 
cally stroking  his  moustache,  and  stretching  his 
legs  out  a  little  farther.  "  A  brilliant  match  if  you 
choose,  but  rather  a  scaly  fellow, — eh  ?" 

"I  should  like  to  know  what  objection  you  can 
make  to  him,"  Therese  asks,  crossly. 

Zino  shrugs  his  shoulders  up  to  his  ears,  and 
then  straightens  them  again,  without  taking  any 
further  pains  to  clothe  in  words  his  opinion  of 
Monsieur  Cabouat. 

"He  is  not  a  thorough  gentleman,"  says  the 
elder  Rohritz. 

"  He  is  a  thorough  snob,"  says  Zino. 
"  One  question,  if  you  please."  Edgar  suddenly 
and  unexpectedly  takes  part  in  the  conversation : 
he  has  hitherto  seemed  quite  absorbed  in  con- 
templation of  a  photograph  on  the  mantel-piece 
of  his  little  niece.  "  Has  Fraulein  Meineck  agreed 
to  the  match  ?" 

"  Yes,  to  my  great  surprise,"  his  brother  replies. 
"  I  did  not  expect  it  of  her." 

"  It  was  no  easy  task  to  bring  her  round," 
Therese  declares ;  "  but  I  went  to  work  in  the 
most  sensible  manner.  '  Have  you  any  other 
preference  ?'  I  asked  Stella  yesterday,  after  telling 
her  that  Monsieur  de  Hauterive  was  ready  to  lay 
his  person  and  his  millions  at  her  feet  and  had 


THERESE,   THE   WISE.  3Q7 

begged  me  to  ascertain  for  him  beforehand  that 
his  suit  would  not  be  rejected." 

"And  what  was  Stella's  reply?"  Edmund  asks. 

"  She  started  and  changed  colour.  '  Dear  child/ 
I  said,  '  it  is  perfectly  natural  that  you  should  have 
some  little  fancy :  we  have  all  had  our  enthusiasms 
for  the  man  in  the  moon ;  cela  va  sans  dire ;  such 
trifles  never  count.  The  question  is,  Have  you  a 
passion  for  some  one  who  returns  it  and  who  you 
have  reason  to  hope  will  marry  you  ?' 

"  '  No  !'  she  answered,  very  decidedly. 

"  *  Then  do  not  hesitate  an  instant,  dear  child,' 
I  exclaimed ;  and  when  she  did  not  reply  I  laid 
the  case  before  her,  making  clear  to  her  how  un- 
justifiable her  refusal  of  this  offer  would  be.  '  You 
have  no  money !'  I  exclaimed.  '  You  propose  to 
go  upon  the  stage.  That  is  simply  nonsense ;  for, 
setting  aside  the  fact  that  you  have  scarcely  voice 
enough  to  succeed,  a  theatrical  career  for  a  girl 
with  your  principles  and  prejudices  is  impossible. 
Look  your  future  in  the  face,  dear  heart.  Your 
little  property  must  soon,  as  you  cannot  but  admit, 
be  consumed;  that  meanwhile  the  fairy  prince  of 
your  girlish  dreams  should  appear  as  your  suitor 
is  not  within  the  bounds  of  probability.  You 
must  choose  between  two  courses,  either  to  earn 
your  living  as  a  governess  or  to  give  lessons ; 
since  you  do  not  wish  to  leave  your  mother,  you 
must  adopt  the  latter.  Fancy  it! — running  about 


308  ERLACH  COURT. 

in  galoshes  and  a  water-proof  in  all  kinds  of 
weathers,  looked  at  askance  by  servants  in  the 
halls,  tormented  by  your  clients  and  pupils,  no 
gleam  of  light  anywhere,  except  in  an  occasional 
ticket  for  the  theatre,  either  given  to  you  or  pur- 
chased out  of  your  small  savings,  and  finally  in 
your  old  age  a  miserable  invalid  existence  sup- 
ported chiefly  by  the  alms  of  a  few  charitable  pupils. 
This  is  the  future  that  awaits  you  if  you  refuse 
Monsieur  de  Hauterive.  On  the  other  hand,  if 
you  accept  him,  how  delightful  a  life  you  will  lead ! 
You  can  assist  your  mother  and  sister  largely,  and 
will  have  nothing  to  do  except  to  treat  with  a  rea- 
sonable degree  of  consideration  a  good  husband 
who  exacts  no  passionate  devotion  from  you,  and 
to  be  the  mistress,  with  all  the  grace  and  charm 
natural  to  you,  of  one  of  the  finest  houses  in  Paris. 
Why,  you  cannot  possibly  hesitate,  my  darling.' ' 

All  three  gentlemen  have  listened  with  exem- 
plary patience  to  this  lengthy  exordium, — Ed- 
mund with  a  gloomy  frown,  and  Zino  with  the 
half-contemptuous  smile  which  he  has  taught  him- 
self to  bestow  upon  the  most  tragic  occurrences, 
while  Edgar's  face  tells  no  tale,  as  during  his  sis- 
ter-in-law's long  speech  it  has  been  steadily  turned 
away,  gazing  into  the  fire. 

"  And  what  did  the  little  Baroness  have  to  say 
to  your  brilliant  argument  in  favour  of  a  sensible 
marriage  ?"  Ziuo  asks,  after  a  short  pause. 


THERESE,  THE   WISE.  3Q9 

"  For  a  moment  she  sat  perfectly  quiet :  she  had 
grown  very  pale,  and  her  breath  came  quick. 
Then  she  looked  up  at  me  out  of  those  large,  dark 
eyes  of  hers,  which  you  all  know,  and  said, — 

"  '  Yes,  you  are  right.     I  will  be  sensible.' 

"  I  took  her  in  my  arms,  and  exulted  in  my 
victory.  I  confess  I  had  a  hard  battle ;  but  you 
must  all  admit  that  I  was  right." 

"I  admit  that  you  went  resolutely  to  work," 
Bays  her  husband,  gloomily. 

"  What  do  you  think,  Edgar  ?" 

"  Since  I  have  no  personal  knowledge  of  Mon- 
sieur Cabouat  <3e  Hauterive,  my  opinion  is  of  no 
value,"  Edgar  replies,  dryly. 

"Well,  you  at  least  think  I  was  right,  Zino  ?" 
Therese  exclaims,  rather  piqued. 

"  Certainly,"  he  replies,  "  since  I  have  lately  be- 
come quite  too  poor  to  indulge  in  expensive  pleas- 
ures, and  consequently  cannot  marry  for  love.  I 
shall  be  glad  at  least  to  know  Stella  well  taken 
care  of." 

"  Mauvais  sujet !"  Therese  laughs.  "  I  see  it  is 
high  time  to  marry  you  off,  or  you'll  be  committing 
some  stupidity.  I  must  marry  you  all  off, — you 
too,  Edgar — ah,  pardon,  I  believe  I  did  promise  to 
leave  you  unmolested;  but  I  have  such  a  superb 
match  for  you." 

"  Who  is  it  ?"  asks  Zino.    "  I  am  really  curious." 

"  Natalie  Lipinski." 


310  ERLACH  COURT. 

"  Pardon,  there  you  are  reckoning  without  your 
host,"  the  Prince  says,  almost  crossly.  "Natalie 
does  not  wish  to  marry." 

"  So  say  all  girls,  before  the  right  man  appears." 

"  You're  wrong,"  Zino  interposes.  "  I  know  of 
three  people — hm  !  people  of  some  importance — to 
whom  Natalie  has  given  the  mitten.  Two  of  them 
I  cannot  name  :  the  third — well,  I  myself  am  the 
third.  She  refused  me  point-blank." 

"  Tiens  !  now  I  guess  the  reason  of  your  lasting 
friendship  for  Natalie :  you  are  ever  grateful  to 
her  for  that  refusal !"  Therese  laughs.  "  You  and 
Natalie  ! — it  is  inconceivable." 

"  She  pleased  me,"  the  Prince  confesses.  "  'Tis 
strange :  you're  sure  to  over-eat  yourself  on  delica- 
cies; you  never  do  on  good  strong  bouillon. 
Natalie  always  reminds  me  of  bouillon.  She  is 
the  only  girl  for  whom  ever  since  I  first  knew  her 
— that  is,  ever  since  I  was  a  boy — I  have  felt  the 
same  degree  of  friendship.  £&!"  he  takes  his 
watch  out  of  his  pocket;  "she  begged  me  not  to 
fail  to  come  to  the  Rue  de  la  Bruyere  to-day. 
"Will  not  you  come  too,  Edgar  ?  She  would  be 
delighted  to  see  you." 

Edgar  lifts  his  brows  with  a  bored  expression. 
Before  he  finds  time  in  his  slow  way  to  answer, 
Therese  interposes : 

"Do  go,  Edgar,  please!  You  must  know  that 
Monsieur  de  Hauterive  is  to  make  his  declaration  to 


STELLA'S  FAILURE.  311 

Stella  to-day.  I  advised  him  to  speak  to  her  before 
he  preferred  his  suit  to  her  mother :  it  is  the  fashion 
in  Austria.  Stella  would  be  sure  to  value  such  a  con- 
cession to  Austrian  custom.  Yes,  Edgar,  go  to  the 
Lipinskis'  and  watch  little  Stella  and  her  adorer. 
If  I  were  not  so  utterly  done  up  I  would  go  too,  I 
am  so  very  curious." 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

STELLA'S  FAILURE. 

LIKE  most  of  the  salons  of  foreigners  in  Paris, 
even  of  the  most  distinguished,  that  of  the  Li- 
pinskis produces  the  impression  of  a  social  mena- 
gerie. Artists,  Americans,  diplomatists,  stand  out 
in  strong  relief  against  a  background  of  old  Rus- 
sian acquaintances.  French  people  are  seldom  met 
with  there.  Scarcely  three  months  have  passed 
since  the  Lipinskis  took  up  their  abode  in  Paris, 
and  they  have  not  yet  had  time  to  organize  their 
circle.  The  agreeable  atmosphere  of  every-day 
intimacy  which  constitutes  the  chief  charm  of  every 
select  circle  is  lacking.  The  Russians  and  the 
elderly  diplomatists  gather  for  the  most  part  about 
the  fireplace,  where  Madame  Lipinski  holds  her 
little  court. 


312  ERLACH  COURT. 

She  is  an  uncommonly  distinguished,  graceful 
old  lady,  who  had  been  a  celebrated  beauty  in  the 
best  days  of  the  Emperor  Nicholas's  reign,  and  had 
played  her  part  at  court.  One  of  the  Empress's 
maids  of  honour,  she  had  preserved  in  her  heart 
an  undying,  unchanging  love  for  the  chivalric, 
maligned  Emperor,  so  sadly  tried  towards  the  end 
of  his  life.  She  wears  her  thick  white  hair  stroked 
back  from  her  temples  and  adorned  by  a  rather  fan- 
tastic cap  of  black  lace;  her  tiny  ears,  undecorated 
by  ear-rings,  are  exposed, — which  looks  rather  odd 
in  a  woman  of  her  age.  As  soon  as  she  becomes  at 
her  ease  with  a  new  acquaintance  she  tells  him  of  the 
annoyance  which  these  same  tiny  ears  occasioned 
her  at  the  time  when  she  was  maid  of  honour. 
The  Empress  condemned  her  to  wear  her  hair 
brushed  down  over  her  cheeks,  merely  because  the 
Emperor  once  at  a  ball  extolled  the  beauty  of  her 
ears. 

"  She  was  jealous,  the  poor  Empress,"  the  old 
lady  is  wont  to  close  her  narrative  by  declaring, 
and  then,  raising  her  eyes  to  heaven,  she  says,  with 
a  deprecatory  shrug,  "  Of  me !"  What  she  likes 
best  to  tell,  however,  is  how  the  Emperor  once, 
when  he  honoured  her  with  a  morning  call,  had 
with  the  greatest  patience  kindled  her  fire  in  the 
fireplace,  whereupon  she  had  exclaimed, "  Ah,  Sire, 
if  Europe  could  behold  you  now !" 

The  artistic  element  collects  about  Natalie. 


STELLA'S  FAILURE.  313 

On  the  day  when  Edgar  and  Zino  are  sent  to  the 
Lipinskis'  to  observe  Stella  and  Monsieur  Cabouat, 
the  artistic  element  is  represented  by  a  pianist  of 
much  pretension  and  with  his  fingers  stuck  into 
india-rubber  thimbles,  and  besides  by  Signor  della 
Seggiola. 

Della  Seggiola,  without  his  gray  velvet  cap,  in  a 
black  dress-coat,  looks  freshly  washed  and — im- 
mensely unhappy.  His  comfortable,  barytone  self- 
possession  stands  him  in  no  stead  in  this  cool  at- 
mosphere :  he  has  no  opportunity  to  produce  the 
jokes  and  merry  quips  with  which  he  is  wont  to 
enliven  his  scholars  during  his  lessons.  Restless 
and  awkward,  he  goes  from  one  arm-chair  to  an- 
other, is  absorbed  in  admiration  of  a  piece  of  Jap- 
anese lacquer,  and  breathes  a  sigh  of  relief  when 
he  is  asked  to  sing  something,  which  seems  to  him 
far  easier  in  a  drawing-room  than  to  talk. 

The  pianist,  on  the  contrary,  needs  a  deal  of 
urging  before  he  consents  to  pound  away  fiercely 
at  the  Pleyel  piano  as  though  he  were  a  personal 
enemy  of  the  maker. 

"  I  have  a  great  liking  for  artists,"  Madame  Li- 
pinski,  after  watching  the  barytone  through  her 
eye-glass,  declares  to  her  neighbour  Prince  Su- 
warin,  who  is  known  in  Parisian  society  by  the 
nickname  of  memento  mori,  "  but  they  seem  to  me 
like  hounds, — delightful  to  behold  in  the  open  air, 
but  mischievous  in  a  drawing-room.  One  always 
o  27 


314  ERLACH  COURT. 

dreads  lest  they  should  upset  something.  Natalie 
disagrees  with  me  :  she  likes  to  have  them  in  the 
house ;  she  is  exactly  my  opposite,  my  daughter." 

lu  this  Prince  Capito  agrees  with  her,  and  hence 
his  regard  for  Natalie. 

It  is  about  half-past  ten  when  Edgar  and  Zino 
enter  the  Lipinski  drawing-room.  After  Edgar 
has  paid  his  respects  to  both  ladies  of  the  house, — a 
ceremony  much  prolonged  by  Madame  Lipinski, — 
he  looks  about  for  Stella,  and  perceives  her  directly 
in  the  centre  of  the  room,  seated  on  a  yellow  divan 
from  which  rises  a  tall  camellia-tree  with  red  blos- 
soms, beside  Zino.  He  is  about  to  approach  her, 
when  he  feels  a  hand  upon  his  arm.  He  turns. 
Stasy  stands  beside  him,  affected,  languishing,  in  a 
youthful  white  gown,  a  bouquet  of  roses  on  her 
breast,  and  a  huge  feather  far  in  her  hand. 

"  What  an  unexpected  pleasure  !"  she  murmurs. 

As  just  at  this  moment  a  young  lady,  a  pupil 
of  the  pianist,  has  seated  herself  at  the  piano,  to 
play  a  bolero,  Edgar  is  obliged  to  keep  quiet,  and 
cannot  help  being  detained  beside  the  wicked 
old  fairy;  nay,  he  is  even  pinned  down  in  a  chair 
beside  her. 

The  assemblage  listens  in  silence  to  the  young 
.performer's  first  effort;  but  when  the  Spanish  dance 
is  followed  by  a  Swedish  '  reverie'  the  silence 
ceases.  The  hum  of  conversation  rises  throughout 
the  room, — conversation  conducted  in  that  half- 


STELLA'S  FAILURE.  315 

whisper  which  reminds  one  of  the  low  murmur 
of  faded  leaves.  The  first  to  begin  it  was  Zino. 

"  I  do  not  understand  how  such  delicate  hands 
can  have  so  hard  a  touch,"  he  whispers,  leaning 
a  little  towards  Stella,  with  a  significant  glance 
towards  the  narrow-chested  little  American  at  the 
piano.  "  Dummy  instruments  ought  always  to  be 
provided  for  these  drawing-room  performances  of 
young  ladies :  there  would  be  just  as  much  op- 
portunity for  the  performers  to  display  their  beau- 
tiful hands,  and  the  misery  of  the  audience  would 
be  greatly  alleviated." 

Stella  laughs  a  little,  a  very  little.  She  is  mel- 
ancholy to-night.  Zino  thinks  of  the  sword  of 
Damocles  suspended  above  her  fair  head,  and  pities 
her.  For  a  moment  he  is  compassionately  silent ; 
then,  espying  AnastnSsia,  he  says,  "  I  should  like  to 
know  how  the  Grurlichingen  comes  here.  She  is 
a  person  of  whom,  were  I  Natalie,  I  should  steer 
clear.'* 

"  To  steer  clear  of  the  Gurlichingen  against  her 
will  is  almost  as  difficult  as  to  steer  clear  of  an 
epidemic  disease ;  she  steals  upon  us  perfectly  un- 
awares," says  Stella,  with  a  slight  shrug. 

"  Of  all  antipathetic  women  whom  I  have  ever 
encountered,  the  Gurlichingen  is  the  most  antipa- 
thetic," the  Prince  boldly  asseverates.  "  Her  smile 
is  peculiarly  agreeable.  It  always  reminds  me  of 
Captain  White's  Oriental  pickles, — '  the  most  ex- 


316  ERLACH  COURT. 

quisite  compound  of  sweet  and  sour.'  At  Nice 
they  called  her  the  death's-head  with  forget-me- 
not  eyes.  To-night  she  looks  like  a  skeleton  at  a 
masquerade.  Just  look  at  her !  If  she  only  would 
not  show  all  her  thirty-two  teeth  at  once!" 

"  Where  is  she  ?"  asks  Stella,  slightly  turning 
her  head.  So  great  has  been  her  dread  of  per- 
ceiving somewhere  her  menacing  destiny,  Monsieur 
de  Hauterive,  that  hitherto  she  has  not  looked 
about  at  all. 

"  There,  between  Rohritz  and  that  flower-table, 
there " 

By  '  Rohritz'  Stella  has  been  wont  for  weeks  to 
understand  the  husband  of  Therese;  she  has  not 
yet  heard  of  Edgar's  arrival  in  Paris.  She  raises 
her  eyes,  and  starts  violently.  He  is  here  in  the 
same  room  with  her,  and  has  not  even  taken  the 
trouble  to  bid  her  good-evening.  Good  heavens ! 
what  of  that  ?  How  many  minutes  will  pass  be- 
fore Monsieur  de  Hauterive  comes  to  ask  her  to 
redeem  Therese  Rohritz's  pledged  word?  and 
then The  blood  mounts  to  her  cheeks. 

"Sapristi!"  Zino  thinks  to  himself,  "can  it  be 
possible  that  my  brother-in-law  has  been  keener 
of  vision  than  my  very  clever  sister?" 

"  Do  you  not  think,  Baron  Rohritz,"  Stasy  mean- 
while remarks  to  the  victim  still  fettered  to  her 
side,  "  that  Prince  Capito  pays  too  marked  atten- 
tion to  our  little  friend  Stella  ?" 


STELLA'S  FAILURE.  317 

"  That  is  his  affair,"  Edgar  replies,  coldly. 

"  And  what  does  your  sister-in-law  say  to  Stella's 
conduct  with  Capito  ?" 

"  My  sister-in-law  evidently  has  no  fault  what- 
ever to  find  with  the  young  lady,  for  this  very  day 
she  praised  her  in  the  warmest  terms." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  Stasy  murmurs ;  "  Therese,  they 
say,  has  taken  Stella  under  her  wing." 

"  She  is  very  fond  of  her." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  all  Paris  is  aware  that  Therese," — to 
speak  all  the  more  familiarly  of  her  distinguished 
acquaintances  the  less  intimate  she  is  with  them 
is  one  of  Stasy's  disagreeable  characteristics, — 
"  that  Therese  has  set  herself  the  task  of  marrying 
Stella  well.  If  this  be  so  she  ought  to  advise  the 
girl  to  conduct  herself  somewhat  more  prudently, 
or  the  little  goose  will  soon  have  compromised 
herself  so  absolutely  that  it  will  be  impossible  to 
find  a  respectable  match  for  her.  Do  you  know 
that  for  Stella's  sake  Zino  has  joined  della  Seg- 
giola's  class  ?" 

"  Would  you  make  Stella  Meineck  responsible 
for  Prince  Capito's  eccentricities  ?" 

"  Granted  that  it  was  not  in  consequence  of  her 
direct  permission, — I  do  not  say  it  was.  But  she 
makes  appointments  with  him  in  the  Louvre ; 
and" — Stasy's  eyes  sparkle  with  fiendish  triumph 
— "  she  visits  him  at  his  lodgings.  A  very  worthy 
and  truthful  friend  of  mine  has  rooms  opposite  the 

27* 


318  ERLACH  COURT. 

Prince's  in  the  Rue  d'Anjou,  and  she  lately  saw 
Stella,  closely  veiled,  pass  beneath  the  archway 
of  his " 

"Absurd!"  Rohritz  exclaims,  indignantly;  and, 
without  allowing  her  to  finish,  he  leaves  her  very 
unceremoniously  to  go  to  Stella.  But  before  he 
can  make  his  way  among  the  various  trains,  and 
the  thicket  of  furniture  of  a  Parisian  drawing- 
room,  to  the  yellow  divan,  some  one  else  has  taken 
the  place  beside  Stella  just  vacated  by  Zino, — a 
handsome,  broad-shouldered  man  of  about  forty, 
well  dressed,  correct  in  his  appearance,  but  not  dis- 
tinguished, although  it  would  be  impossible  to  de- 
scribe what  is  lacking.  There  is  something  brand- 
new,  stiff,  shiny,  about  him.  Between  him  and  a 
dandy  of  the  purest  water,  like  Capito,  for  in- 
stance, there  is  the  same  difference  that  is  to  be 
found  between  a  piece  of  genuine  old  Meissner 
porcelain  and  some  of  modern  manufacture. 

"  Who  is  the  man  with  the  red  face  and  peaked 
moustache  beneath  the  camellia  there?"  Edgar 
asks  his  old  acquaintance  Prince  Suwarin,  whom 
he  has  just  met. 

"  That  is  a  certain  Cabouat  de  Hauterive,  a 
millionaire,  who  is  very  fond  of  pretty  things,"  re- 
plies Suwarin.  "  A  little  while  ago  he  bought  a 
superb  Rousseau  for  his  gallery,  and  now,  they 
say,  he  intends  to  buy  a  pretty  wife  for  his  house. 
But  he  is  absolutely  lacking  in  the  very  A,  B,  C  of 


STELLA'S  FAILURE.  319 

aesthetic  knowledge.  The  picture-dealer,  Arthur 
Stevens,  selected  his  Rousseau  for  him.  I  should 
like  to  know  who  found  a  wife  for  him.  Whoever 
it  was  had  good  taste,  I  must  say.  The  stupid 
fellow  brags  to  all  his  acquaintances  of  the  beauty 
of  his  new  acquisition.  She's  a  countrywoman 
of  yours,  if  I'm  not  mistaken, — the  young  girl 
there  beside  him.  She  is  simply  divine !" 

In  fact,  she  is  exquisitely  lovely.  How  can  Stasy 
presume  to  slander  her  so  brutally?  Truly  it 
would  be  difficult  to  imagine  anything  more 
modest,  more  innocent,  than  the  slender  creature 
beside  that  broad-shouldered  parvenu !  Her  elbows 
pressed  close  to  her  sides,  her  hands  in  her  lap, 
with  drooping  head  she  sits  there  deadly  pale,  and 
evidently  trembling  with  dread,  as  if  awaiting 
sentence  of  death. 

"  It  is  a  crime  to  force  a  young  girl  thus,"  Roh- 
ritz  mutters  between  his  set  teeth.  "  I  would  not 
for  the  world  have  Therese's  work  to  answer  for. 
Fool  that  I  am  !— fool !" 

Every  drop  of  blood  in  his  veins  boils;  for  a 
moment  it  seems  as  if  the  sight  of  that  pale,  sad, 
child-like  face  must  rob  him  of  all  self-control,  as 
if  thus  at  the  last  moment  he  must  snatch  her  from 
the  glittering,  terrible  fate  to  which  she  has  devoted 
herself  and  bear  her  off  in  his  arms,  far,  far  away, 
to  a  peaceful  green  country  where  in  the  dreamy 
evening  twilight  stands  a  white  castle  in  the  shade 


320  ERLACH  COURT. 

of  a  mighty  linden,  where  the  odour  of  the  linden- 
blossoms  mingles  on  the  evening  breeze  with  the 
fragrance  of  the  large,  pale  roses  which  look  up  from 
the  dark  verdure  to  the  blue  evening  skies,  where 
the  music  of  gently-rustling  leaves  blends  sadly 
with  the  sobbing  ripple  of  the  Save  ! 

ISTone  but  a  maniac,  however,  would  in  our  civ- 
ilized century  yield  to  such  an  impulse.  Edgar 
,  is  by  no  means  a  maniac :  he  is  even  too  well  bred 
to  show  the  slightest  outward  sign  of  his  agita- 
tion. Calmly,  his  eye-glass  in  his  eye,  he  stands 
beside  Suwarin  and  answers  intelligibly  and  con- 
nectedly his  questions  as  to  the  new  Viennese 
ballet. 

Stella  Meineck  has  less  self-control.  While 
Monsieur  in  the  most  insinuating  minor  tones  is  pre- 
luding the  momentous  question,  she  is  vainly  trying 
to  convince  herself  of  all  that  should  force  her  to 
receive  his  suit  with  joyful  gratitude  from  the  hand 
of  fate  as  a  gift  of  God.  She  recalls  the  petty 
poverty  of  the  life  that  lies  behind  her,  the  endless, 
monotonous  misery  of  the  future  in  galoches  and 
water-proof  that  lies  before  her,  the  hotel-bill  that 
is  not  paid,  the  golden  brooch  she  has  been  obliged 
to  sell  to  buy  two  pair  of  new  gloves, — everything, 
in  short,  that  is  hopeless  and  comfortless  in  her  lite. 
Oh,  she  will  be  sensible,  will  accept  his  offer. 
There, — now  he  has  put  the  great  question,  so  dis- 
tinctly, so  clearly,  that  no  pretence  of  misunder- 


ROHRITZ  DREAMS.  321 

standing  that  might  delay  the  necessity  for  her  reply 
is  possible.  She  catches  her  breath ;  her  heart  beats 
as  if  it  would  break ;  black  misty  clouds  float  before 
her  eyes ;  there  is  a  sound  in  her  ears  as  of  the  rush- 
ing of  a  far-distant  stream.  She  raises  her  head, 
and  is  about  to  speak,  when  her  eyes  meet  Edgar's ; 
and  if  instant  death  were  to  be  the  consequence  of 
her  refusal,  her  consent  is  no  longer  possible. 

"  You  are  very — very  kind,"  she  stammers,  im- 
ploringly, "  Monsieur  de  Hauterive,  but  I  cannot — 
I  cannot — forgive  me,  but — I  cannot." 

A  moment  more,  and  she  is  sitting  alone  beneath 
the  camellia-bush. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

ROHRITZ   DREAMS. 

"  SHE  has  given  him  the  sack." 

"  So  it  seems." 

"  A  pretty  affair !  How  pleased  Th&rese  will 
be!" 

The  speakers  are  Capito  and  Edgar  as  they  leave 
the  Rue  de  la  Bruyere,  where  the  small  hotel  which 
the  Lipinskis  have  rented  is  situated,  and  walk 
along  under  the  blue-black  heavens  glittering  with 


322  ERLACH  COURT. 

millions  of  stars,  to  the  more  animated  part  of 
Paris. 

"  Yes,  Therese  will  be  pleased,"  Edgar  murmurs, 
repeating  Zino's  words. 

"  It  serves  her  right,"  Zino  says,  laughing.  "  I 
must  confess,  Stella  ought  not  to  have  let  matters 
go  so  far ;  but  I  cannot  help  liking  it  in  her  that 
she  refused  the  fellow.  Natalie  arid  I  were  look- 
ing at  her;  it  was  immensely  funny, — and  yet  so 
sad.  Ah,  that  poor,  distressed,  pale  face  !  After 
it  was  all  over,  Natascha — she  has  lately  grown 
very  intimate  with  Stella — called  the  girl  into  a 
little  private  boudoir,  where  the  poor  child  began 
to  sob  bitterly.  Natascha  kissed  her  and  com- 
forted her,  I  brought  her  a  cup  of  tea,  and  we 
gradually  soothed  her." 

"Disgusting  creature,  that  Cabouat!"  growls 
Rohritz. 

"  In  my  opinion  he  is  an  awkward,  common 
snob,"  says  Zino,  "  and  if  I  am  not  mistaken  he 
will  shortly  prove  himself  to  be  so  in  the  eyes  of 
every  one.  The  affair  cannot  fail  to  be  unpleasant, 
since  he  has  been  boasting  everywhere  that  he 
intended  to  marry  a  most  beautiful  Austrian,  a 
friend  of  Madame  de  Rohritz,  a  charming  young 
girl,  very  highly  connected,  and  with  no  dowry." 

"  He  is  at  perfect  liberty  to  say  that  at  the  last 
moment  he  changed  his  mind,"  Rohritz  remarks, 
casually. 


ROHRITZ  DREAMS.  323 

"  I  rather  think  he'll  not  content  himself  with 
that,  p*,  you  are  coming  with  me  to  the  masked 
ball  at  the  opera  ?" 

"  Not  exactly.     I  am  going  to  bed." 

"  Indolent,  degenerate  race  !"  Zino  jeers.  "  "What 
is  to  become  of  Paris,  if  this  indifference  to  all 
gaiety  gets  the  upper  hand  ?  I  dreamed  last  night 
of  a  white  domino :  I  am  going  to  look  for  it." 
So  saying,  he  leaves  Edgar,  and  has  walked  on  a 
few  steps,  when  he  hears  himself  recalled. 

"Capito!  Capito!" 

"  What  is  it  ?" 

"  Pray  get  me  an  invitation  to  the  Fanes'  ball ; 
it  is  short  notice,  but " 

"  All  right :  that's  of  no  consequence  at  an 
American's  ball,"  Zino  replies,  and  hurries  on  to 
his  goal.  The  two  men  turn  their  steps  in  opposite 
directions.  Capito  hastens  back  into  the  heart  of 
Paris,  where  the  garish  light  from  gas-jets  and 
lamps  illuminates  a  night  life  as  busy  as  that  of 
the  day,  and  Rohritz  passes  along  the  Boulevard 
Malesherbes,  towards  the  Rue  Villiers.  Around 
him  all  is  quiet ;  the  few  shops  are  closed ;  an 
occasional  pedestrian  passes,  his  coat-collar  drawn 
up  over  his  ears,  and  humming  some  cafe-chantant 
air,  or  a  carriage  with  coach-lamps  sparkles  along 
the  middle  of  the  street  like  a  huge  firefly.  The 
street-cars  are  no  longer  running :  the  street  is  but 
dimly  lighted.  The  Dumas  monument  looms, 


324  ERLACH  COURT, 

clumsy  and  awkward,  on  its  huge  pedestal  in  the 
little  square  on  the  Place  Malesherbes. 

A  thousand  delightful  thoughts  course  through 
Rohritz's  brain.  "What  a  pleasant  hour  he  has  had 
talking  with  Stella  at  the  Lipinskis' !  At  first  she 
was  stiff  towards  him,  hut  gradually,  slowly,  she 
thawed  into  the  loveliest,  most  child-like  confi- 
dence. He  will  wait  no  longer.  At  the  Fanes' 
ball,  the  next  evening  but  one,  he  will  confess  all 
to  her.  What  will  she  reply  ?  Blind  as  are  all 
mortals  to  the  future,  he  looks  back,  and  seeks 
her  answer  in  the  past.  Slowly,  slowly,  he  passes 
in  review  all  the. lovely  summer  days  which  he  has 
spent  with  her,  to  that  evening  when  he  carried 
her  in  his  arms  through  the  drenching  rain  across 
the  slippery,  muddy  road.  Again  he  sees  the 
windows  of  the  little  inn  gleam  yellow  through 
the  gloom ;  he  hears  Stella's  soft  word  of  thanks 
as  he  puts  her  down  on  the  threshold.  The  picture 
changes.  He  sees  a  large,  watery  moon  gleam- 
ing through  prismatic  clouds,  sees  a  little  skiff 
by  the  shore  of  a  dark,  swollen  stream,  and  in 
the  skiff,  at  his — Edgar's — feet,  kneels  a  slender 
girl  in  a  light  dress,  trembling  with  distress,  her 
eyes  imploringly  raised  to  his,  her  delicate  hands 
clasping  his  arm. 

He  bends  over  her.  "  Stella,  my  poor,  dear,  un- 
reasonable child !"  He  has  lifted  her,  clasps  her 
in  his  arms,  presses  his  lips  upon  her  golden  hair, 


A  SPRAINED  ANKLE.  325 

her  eyes,  her  mouth With  a  sudden  start  he 

rouses  from  his  dream  to  find  that  he  has  run 
against  a  passer-by,  who  is  saying,  crossly,  "Mais 
comment  done  ?  Is  not  the  pavement  wide  enough 
for  two  ?"  And,  looking  up,  Edgar  perceives  that 
he  has  already  passed  ten  numbers  beyond  his 
brother's  hotel. 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

A  SPRAINED   ANKLE. 
"MY   DEAR   ROHRITZ, — 

"  Accidents  will  occur  in  the  best-regulated 
families !  As  I  was  escorting  my  cousin  in  a  ride 
yesterday,  my  horse  slipped  and  fell  on  the  ice, 
and  I  sprained  my  ankle.  Was  there  ever  any- 
thing so  stupid  !  If  it  could  be  called  a  misfor- 
tune for  which  one  could  be  pitied ;  but  no,  'tis  a 
mere  tiresome  annoyance.  Ridiculous !  And  I 
am  engaged  to  dance  the  cotillon  at  the  Fanes' 
with  Stella  Meineck.  Old  fellow  as  I  am,  I  had 
really  looked  forward  to  this  pleasure.  Eh  bien  I 
all  the  massage  in  the  world  will  not  enable  me 
to  put  my  foot  on  the  ground  before  the  end  of  a 
week.  Have  the  kindness,  as  they  say  in  your 
native  Vienna,  to  dance  the  cotillon  in  my  stead 

28 


326  ERLACH  COURT. 

with  our  fair  star.     Send  me  a  line  to  say  that 
you  agree,  or  come  and  tell  me  so  yourself. 

"  Is  Therese  going  to  the  ball  ?  Tell  her  from  me 
to  be  nice  to  Stella,  and  not  to  reckon  it  against  her 
that,  in  spite  of  a  moment  of  indecision  induced  by 
the  distinguished  eloquence  of  my  very  clever  little 
sister,  she  has  behaved  nobly  and  honestly  through- 
out,— in  short,  just  as  was  to  be  expected  of  her. 

Adieu !     Yours  forever, 

"  CAPITO." 

Such  is  the  letter  Edgar  receives  the  second  morn- 
ing after  the  Lipinskis*  soiree,  while  he  is  break- 
fasting with  his  •  brother  in  the  latter's  smoking- 
room. 

"  Zino  ?"  asks  Edmund,  looking  up  from  his 
*  Figaro,'  the  reading  of  which  is  as  much  a  part 
of  his  breakfast  as  are  the  fragrant  black  coffee  and 
the  yellowish  Viennese  bread  with  Norman  butter. 

"  Read  it,"  Edgar  replies,  as  he  scribbles  with  a 
lead-pencil  on  a  visiting-card,  "  I  am  quite  at  your 
disposal,"  and  hands  it  to  the  waiting  servant. 

"  He's  a  fool !"  the  elder  Rohritz  remarks,  hand- 
ing back  the  note  to  his  brother.  "  He  knows 
perfectly  well  that  you  do  not  dance." 

"  But  one  can  talk  through  a  cotillon,"  Edgar 
says,  with  as  much  indifference  as  he  can  assume. 

"  You  have  consented  ?" 

"  I  could  not  do  otherwise.  Stella  is  a  stranger 
in  Paris :  it  might  be  a  source  of  annoyance  to  her 


A  SPRAINED  ANKLE.  327 

to  have  no  partner  for  the  cotillon.  If  at  the  last 
moment  she  should  find  a  more  desirable  partner 
than  myself,  I  am  of  course  ready  to  retire.  A  pro- 
pos,  is  Therese  going  to  the  ball?  Her  cold  is 
better?" 

"Yes." 

"  What  kind  of  ball  is  it  ?" 

"  A  kind  of  public  ball  in  a  wealthy  private 
house,"  given  by  immensely  wealthy  Americans, 
who  know  nobody,  whom  nobody  knows,  and 
who  arrange  an  entertainment  from  the  Arabian 
Xights,  that  they  may  be  talked  of,  mentioned  in 
'  Figaro,'  and  laughed  at  in  society.  Only  three 
weeks  ago  there  was  no  end  of  ridicule  heaped 
upon  Mrs.  and  Mr.  Fane,  unknown  grandees  from 
California,  when  it  was  reported  that  they  wished 
to  give  a  ball.  Nobody  dreamed  of  accepting 
their  invitation ;  but  Mrs.  Fane  was  clever  enough 
to  induce  a  couple  of  women  of  undeniable 
fashion  to  be  her  '  lady  patronesses,'  and  when 

the  rumour  spread  that  the  Duchess  of had 

accepted  there  was  a  perfect  rage  for  invitations. 
Every  one  declared,  'Cela  sera  drdle!'  Every  one 
is  going.  With  the  best  Parisian  society  there 
will  of  course  be  found  people  whom  one  sees  no- 
where else.  I  wonder  how  many  of  the  guests  will 
take  sufficient  notice  of  the  host  and  hostess  to 
recognize  them  in  the  street  the  next  day  ?  But  it 
will  certainly  be  a  beautiful  ball,  and  an  amusing 


328  ERLACH  COURT. 

one.  Stella  is  going  with  the  Lipinskis,  I  believe. 
I  am  curious  to  see  how  she  will  look  in  a  ball-dress, 
— charming,  of  course,  but  rather  too  thin." 

In  the  course  of  the  morning  Edgar  drops  in 
upon  Capito,  and  finds  him,  in  half-merry,  half- 
irritated  mood,  stretched  upon' a  lounge  which  is 
covered  by  a  bearskin,  the  head  of  the  animal 
gnashing  its  teeth  at  the  Prince's  feet.  Of  course 
Capito's  rooms  form  a  tasteful  chaos  of  Oriental 
rugs,  Turkish  embroideries,  interesting  bibelots, 
and  charming  pictures.  Throughout  their  arrange- 
ment, from  the  antique  silken  hangings  veined  with 
silver  that  cover  the  walls,  to  the  low  divans  and 
chairs,  there  runs  a  suggestion  of  effeminate,  Ori- 
ental luxury,  in  whimsical  contrast  with  the  pro- 
verbially vigorous  personality  of  the  Prince,  hard- 
ened as  it  has  been  by  every  species  of  manly  sport 
and  exercise.  The  atmosphere  is  heavy  with  the 
fragrance  of  a  gardenia  shrub  in  full  bloom,  the 
odour  of  cigarettes,  and  the  aroma  of  some  subtle 
Indian  perfume.  A  tall  palm  lifts  its  leaves  to  the 
ceiling.  Half  a  dozen  French  novels,  two  guitars, 
and  a  mandolin  lie  within  Zino's  reach.  He  wears 
a  queer  smoking-jacket  of  blue  silk  faced  with 
red,  and  his  foot  is  swathed  in  towels. 

"  I'm  delighted  to  see  you !  Sit  down.  'Tis 
most  annoying,  this  sprain  of  mine.  But  what  do 
you  say  to  the  pleasure  to  which  you  have  fallen 
heir?" 


A   SPRAINED  ANKLE.  329 

"  In  fact,  I  never  dance,"  Rohritz  makes  reply, 
"  but,  to  oblige  you "  Edgar's  eyes  are  wander- 
ing here  and  there  through  the  room,  and  suddenly 
rest  upon  a  certain  object. 

"  Ah,  'tis  my  Watteau  that  attracts  you  !"  Cap- 
ito  observes.  "  A  pretty  little  picture.  I  bought 
it  at  the  Hotel  Drouot  a  while  ago  for  a  mere  song, 
— five  thousand  francs." 

"  Five  thousand  francs  !  Ridiculous,"  says  Roh- 
ritz.  "  The  picture  is  really  lovely.  But  it  was 
not  the  Watteau  alone  that  attracted  my  attention, 

but "  He  points  to  two  or  three  pictures  which 

are  turned  with  their  faces  to  the  wall. 

"Ah!  ah!"  the  Prince  laughs.  "You  wish  to 
know  what  led  to  that  prudential  measure  ?  Well, 
I  have  had  a  visit  from  ladies." 

"From  whom?"  Rohritz  asks,  absently. 

"  Unasked  I  should  probably  have  told  you,  but 
in  view  of  such  ill-bred  curiosity  I  am  mute,"  Zino 
replies,  still  laughing. 

"  Urn ! — evidently  a  woman  of  character,"  Roh- 
ritz observes,  indifferently. 

"  Of  course :  'tis  the  only  kind  with  whom  I 
can  endure  of  late  to  associate.  If  you  but  knew 
how  bored  I  was  at  the  opera  ball  the  other  night ! 
I  was  made  ill  by  the  bad  air.  The  feminine  ele- 
ment must  always  play  a  large  part  in  my  life ;  but, 
you  see,  of  late  I  can  tolerate  none  but  the  most 
refined,  the  most  distinguished  of  the  species. 

28* 


330  ERLACH  COURT. 

"We  are  strange  creatures,  we  men  of  the  world  :  in 
the  matter  of  cigars,  wine,  horses,  we  always  re- 
quire the  best,  while  with  regard  to  women  we  are 
sometimes  satisfied  with  what " 

The  arrival  of  a  fresh  caller,  one  of  Capito's 
sporting  friends,  interrupts  these  interesting  reflec- 
tions. Rohritz  takes  his  leave. 

The  same  day  he  is  driving  by  chance  through 
the  Rue  d'Anjou,  when  his  attention  is  attracted  by 
a  slender,  graceful,  girlish  figure  hurrying  along, 
evidently  anxious  to  reach  her  destination. 

Is  not  that  Stella  ?  He  leans  out  of  the  carriage 
window,  but  it  is  dark,  and  she  is  closely  veiled. 
And  yet  he  could  swear  that  it  is  she.  She  van- 
ishes in  the  Hotel  ,  in  the  house  where  he 

called  upon  Zino  Capito  this  very  day. 

For  one  brief  moment  all  the  evil  that  Stasy 
said  of  Stella  confuses  his  brain ;  then  he  com- 
presses his  lips :  he  cannot  believe  evil  of  her.  A 
malicious  chance  has  maligned  her.  She  must 
have  a  double  in  Paris. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

LOST   AGAIN. 

How  Stella  has  looked  forward  to  this  ball !  how 
carefully  and  bravely  she  has  cleared  away  all  the 
obstacles  which  seemed  at  first  to  stand  in  the  way 


LOST  AGAIN.  331 

of  her  pleasure !  how  eagerly  and  industriously  - , 
she  has  gathered  together  her  little  store  of  orna- 
ments, has  tastefully  renovated  her  old  Venetian 
ball-dress!  how  she  has  exulted  over  Zino's  note, 
in  which  with  kindly  courtesy  he  has  begged  her 
to  accord  to  his  friend  Edgar  Rohritz  the  pleasure 
he  is  obliged  to  deny  himself!  And  now — now  the 
evening  has  come;  her  ball-dress  lies  spread  out 
on  the  sofa  of  the  small  drawing-room  at  the  '  Three 
Negroes;'  but  Stella  is  lying  on  her  bed  in  her 
little  bedroom,  in  the  dark,  sobbing  bitterly.  For 
the  second  time  she  has  lost  the  porte-bonheur  which 
her  dying  father  put  on  her  arm  three — nearly  four 
years  before,  and  which  was  to  bring  her  happiness. 
She  noticed  only  yesterday  that  the  little  chain 
which  she  had  had  attached  to  it  for  safety  was 
broken,  but  the  clasp  seemed  so  strong  that  she 
postponed  taking  it  to  be  repaired,  and  to-day  as 
she  was  coming  home,  about  five  o'clock,  fresh  and 
gay,  her  cheeks  flushed,  her  eyes  sparkling  with 
the  excitement  of  anticipation,  and  laden  with  all 
sorts  of  packages,  she  perceived  that  her  brace- 
let was  gone.  In  absolute  terror,  she  went  from 
shop  to  shop,  wherever  she  had  made  a  purchase, 
always  with  the  same  imploring  question  on  her 
lips  as  to  whether  they  had  not  found  a  little  porte- 
bonheur  with  a  pendant  of  rock-crystal  containing 
a  four-leaved  clover, — a  silly,  inexpensive  trifle, 
of  no  value  to  any  one  save  herself.  But  in  vain ! 


332  ERLACH  COURT. 

Almost  beside  herself,  she  finally  returned  to  her 
home,  and  told  her  mother  of  her  bitter  distress ; 
but  the  Baroness  only  shrugged  her  shoulders  at 
her  childish  superstition,  and  went  on  writing  with 
extraordinary  industry.  She  has  lately  determined 
to  edit  an  abstract  of  her  work  on  *  Woman's  Part 
in  the  Development  of  Civilization,'  for  a  book- 
agent  with  whom  she  is  in  communication,  and 
who  undertakes  to  sell  unsalable  literature.  It  seems 
that  the  abstract  will  fill  several  volumes  !  In  the 
midst  of  Stella's  distress,  the  Baroness  begins  to 
bewail  to  her  daughter  her  own  immense  super- 
abundance of  ideas,  which  makes  it  almost  impos- 
sible for  her  to  express  herself  briefly.  And  so 
Stella,  after  she  has  hearkened  to  the  end  of  her 
mother's  lament,  slips  away  with  tired,  heavy  feet, 
and  a  still  heavier  heart,  to  her  bedroom,  and  there 
sobs  on  the  pillow  of  her  narrow  iron  bedstead  as 
if  her  heart  would  break. 

There  comes  a  knock  at  the  door. 

"  Who  is  it  ?"  she  asks,  half  rising,  and  wiping 
her  eyes. 

"Me  !"  replies  a  kindly  nasal  voice,  a  voice  typi- 
cal of  the  Parisian  servant.  Stella  recognizes  it  as 
that  of  the  chambermaid. 

"  Come  in,  Justine.     What  do  you  want?" 

"  Two  bouquets  have  come  for  Mademoiselle, — 
two  splendid  bouquets.  Ah,  it  is  dark  here; 
Mademoiselle  has  been  taking  a  little  rest,  so  as  to 


LOST  AGAIN.  333 

be  fresh  for  the  ball ;  but  it  is  nine  o'clock.  Made- 
moiselle ought  to  begin  to  dress :  it  is  always  best 
to  be  in  time.  Shall  I  light  a  candle  ?" 

"  If  you  please,  Justine." 

The  maid  lights  the  candles. 

"  Ah !"  she  exclaims  in  dismay  when  she  sees 
Stella's  sad,  swollen  face,  "  Mademoiselle  is  in  dis- 
tress !  Good  heavens !  what  has  happened  ?  Has 
Mademoiselle  had  bad  news  ? — some  one  dead 
whom  she  loves  ?" 

Any  German  maid  at  sight  of  the  girl's  discon- 
solate face  would  have  suspected  some  love-compli- 
cation ;  the  French  servant  would  never  think  of 
anything  of  the  kind  in  connection  with  a  respect- 
able young  lady. 

"No,  Justine,  but  I  have  lost  a porte-bonheur, — 
a  porte-bonheur  that  my  father  gave  me  a  little  while 
before  he  died, — and  it  is  sure  to  mean  some  mis- 
fortune. I  know  something  dreadful  will  happen 
to  me  at  the  ball.  I  would  rather  stay  at  home. 
But  there  would  be  no  use  in  that :  my  fate  will 
find  me  wherever  I  am :  it  is  impossible  to  hide 
from  it." 

"  Ah,"  sighs  Justine,  "  I  am  so  sorry  for  Made- 
moiselle !  But  Mademoiselle  must  not  take  the 
matter  so  to  heart :  the  porte-bonheur  will  be  found  ; 
nothing  is  lost  in  Paris.  We  will  apply  to  the 
police-superintendent,  and  the  porte-bonheur  will  be 
found.  Ah,  Mademoiselle  would  not  believe  how 


334  ERLACH  COURT. 

many  lost  articles  I  have  had  brought  back  to  me ! 
"Will  not  Mademoiselle  take  a  look  at  the  bou- 
quets ?"  And  the  Parisian  maid  whips  off  the  cotton 
wool  and  silver-paper  that  have  enveloped  the 
flowers.  " Dieu!  que  c'est  beau!"  cries  Justine,  her 
brown,  good-humoured  face  beaming  with  delight 
beneath  the  frill  of  her  white  cap.  "Two  cards 
came  with  the  flowers;  there " 

Stella  grasps  the  cards.  The  bouquet  of  garde- 
nias and  fantastic  orchids  comes  from  Zino;  the 
other,  of  half-opened,  softly-blushing  Malmaison 
roses  and  snowdrops,  is  Edgar's  gift. 

In  their  arch-loveliness,  carelessly  tied  together, 
the  flowers  look  as  if  they  had  come  together  in  the 
cold  winter,  to  whisper  of  the  delights  of  spring  and 
summer, — of  the  time  when  earth  and  sunshine, 
now  parted  by  a  bitter  feud,  shall  meet  again  with 
warm,  loving  kisses  of  reconciliation. 

Zino's  orchids  and  gardenias  lie  neglected  on  the 
cold  gray  marble  top  of  a  corner  table;  with  a 
dreamy  smile,  in  the  midst  of  her  tears,  Stella  buries 
her  face  among  the  roses,  which  remind  her  of 
Erlach  Court, 

"  Mademoiselle  will  find  her  porte-bonheur  again ; 
I  am  sure  of  it;  I  have  a  presentiment,"  Justine 
says,  soothingly.  "  But  now  Mademoiselle  must 
begin  to  make  herself  beautiful.  Madame  has 
given  me  express  permission  to  help  her." 

******* 


LOST  AGAIN.  335 

At  this  same  hour  a  certain  bustle  reigns  in  the 
dressing-room  of  the  Princess  Oblonsky.  Costly 
jewelry,  barbaric  but  characteristically  Russian  in 
design  and  setting,  gleams  from  the  dark  velvet 
lining  of  various  half-opened  cases  in  the  light  of 
numberless  candles.  In  a  faded  sky-blue  dressing- 
gown  trimmed  with  yellow  woollen  lace,  Stasy  is 
standing  beside  a  workwoman  from  Worth's,  who 
is  busy  fastening  large  solitaires  upon  the  Princess's 
ball-dress.  The  air  is  heavy  and  oppressive  with 
the  odour  of  veloutine,  hot  iron,  burnt  hair,  and 
costly,  forced  hot-house  flowers.  Monsieur  Au- 
guste,  the  hair-dresser,  has  just  left  the  room. 
Beneath  his  hands  the  head  of  the  Princess  has 
become  a  masterpiece  of  artistic  simplicity.  In- 
stead of  the  conventional  feathers,  large,  gleaming 
diamond  stars  crown  the  beautiful  woman's  brow. 
She  is  standing  before  a  tall  mirror,  her  shoulders 
bare,  her  magnificent  arms  hanging  by  her  sides, 
in  the  passive  attitude  of  the  great  lady  who,  with- 
out stirring  herself,  is  to  be  dressed  by  her  atten- 
dants. Her  maid  is  kneeling  behind  her,  with  her 
mouth  full  of  pins,  busied  in  imparting  to  the 
long  trailing  muslin  and  lace  petticoat  the  due 
amount  of  imposing  effect. 

Although  half  a  dozen  candles  are  burning  in 

O  O 

the  candelabra  on  each  side  of  the  mirror,  although 
the  entire  apartment  is  Hluminated  by  the  light  of 
at  least  fifty  other  candles,  a  second  maid,  and 


336  ERLACH  COURT. 

Fraulein  von  Fuhrwesen,  now  quite  domesticated 
in  the  Princess's  household,  are  standing  behind 
the  Princess,  each  with  a  candle,  in  testimony  of 
their  sympathy  with  the  maid  at  work  upon  the 
petticoat. 

Yes,  Sophie  Oblonsky  is  going  to  the  Fanes' 
ball :  she  knows  that  Edgar  will  be  there. 

At  last  every  diamond  is  fastened  upon  the  ball- 
dress,  among  its  trimming  of  white  ostrich-feathers. 
The  task  now  is  to  slip  the  robe  over  the  Princess's 
head  without  grazing  her  hair  even  with  a  touch 
as  light  as  that  of  a  butterfly's  wing.  This  is  the 
true  test  of  the  dressing-maid's  art.  The  girl  lifts 
"Worth's  masterpiece  high,  high  in  the  air:  the  feat 
is  successfully  accomplished.  In  all  Paris  to-night 
there  is  no  more  beautiful  woman  than  the  Princess 
Oblonsky  in  her  draperies  of  brocade  shot  with 
silver,  the  diamond  riviere  on  her  neck,  and  the 
diamond  stars  in  her  hair.  The  Fuhrwesen  kneels 
before  her  in  adoration  to  express  her  enthusiasm, 
and  Stasy  exclaims, — 

"  You  are  ravishing !  Do  you  know  what  I  said 
in  Cologne  to  little  Stella,  who,  as  I  told  you,  was 
so  desperately  in  love  with  Edgar  Rohritz  ?  '  Be- 
side Sonja  the  beauty  of  other  women  vanishes  : 
when  she  appears,  we  ordinary  women  cease  to 
exist.' " 

"Exaggerated  nonsense,  my  dear !"  Sonja  says, 
smiling  graciously,  and  lightly  touching  her  friend's 


THE  FANES'  BALL.  337 

cheek  with  her  lace  handkerchief.  "But  now 
hurry  and  make  yourself  beautiful." 

"  Yes,  I  am  going.  I  really  cannot  tell  you  how 
eagerly  I  am  looking  forward  to  this  ball.  I  feel 
like  a  child  again." 

"  So  I  see,"  Sonja  rallies- her.  "  Make  haste  and 
dress ;  when  you  are  ready  I  will  put  the  diamond 
pins  in  your  hair,  myself."  And  when  Stasy  has 
left  the  room  the  Princess  says,  turning  to  Frau- 
lein  von  Fuhrwesen,  "  I  only  hope  Anastasia  will 
enjoy  herself:  it  is  solely  for  her  sake  that  I  have 
been  persuaded  to  go  to  this  ball ;  I  would  far  rather 
stay  at  home,  my  dear  Fuhrwesen,  and  have  you 
play  me  selections  from  Wagner." 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

THE  FANES'  BALL. 

YES,  the  Fanes'  ball  is  a  splendid  ball,  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  balls  of  the  season,  and  fulfils  every 
one's  expectations.  Not  one  of  the  artistic  effects 
that  puzzle  newspaper-reporters  and  delight  the 
public  is  lacking, — neither  fountains  of  eau-de- 
cologne,  nor  tables  of  flowers  upon  which  blocks 
of  ice  gleam  from  among  nodding  ferns,  nor 
mirrors  and  chandeliers  hung  with  wreaths  of 
p  w  29 


338  ERLACH  COURT. 

roses,  nor  the  legendary  grape-vine  with  colossal 
grapes.  The  crown  of  all,  however,  is  the  con- 
servatory, in  which,  among  orange-trees  and  mag- 
nolias in  full  bloom,  gleam  mandarin-trees  full  of 
bright  golden  fruit.  There  are  lovely,  secluded 
nooks  in  this  Paradise,  where  has  been  conjured 
up  in  the  unfriendly  Northern  winter  all  the  luxu- 
riance of  Southern  vegetation.  Large  mirrors  here 
and  there  prevent  what  might  else  be  the  monot- 
ony of  the  scene. 

The  company  is  rather  mixed.  It  almost  pro- 
duces the  impression  of  the  appearance  at  a  first- 
class  theatre  of  a  troop  of  provincial  actors,  with 
here  and  there  a  couple  of  stars, — stars  who 
scarcely  condescend  to  play  their  parts.  Most  of 
the  guests  do  not  recognize  the  host ;  and  those 
who  suspect  his  presence  in  the  serious  little  man 
in  a  huge  white  tie  and  with  a  bald  head,  whom 
they  took  at  first  for  the  master  of  ceremonies,  avoid 
him.  His  entire  occupation  consists  in  gliding  about 
with  an  unhappy  face  in  the  darkest  corners,  now 
and  then  timidly  requesting  some  one  of  the  guests 
to  look  at  his  last  Meissonier.  "When  the  guest 
complies  with  the  request  and  accompanies  him  to 
view  the  Meissonier,  Mr.  Fane  always  replies  to 
the  praise  accorded  to  the  picture  in  the  same 
words  :  "  I  paid  three  hundred  thousand  francs  for 
it.  Do  you  think  Meissoniers  will  increase  in 
value  ?" 


THE  FANES'  BALL.  339 

The  hostess  is  more  imposing  in  appearance  than 
her  bald-headed  spouse.  Her  gown  comes  from 
Felix,  and  is  trimmed  with  sunflowers  as  big  as 
dinner-plates, — which  has  a  comical  effect.  The- 
rese  Rohritz  shakes  her  head,  and  whispers  to  a 
friend,  "  How  that  good  Mrs.  Fane  must  have 
offended  Felix,  to  induce  him  to  take  such  a  cruel 
revenge  !"  But  except  for  her  gown,  and  the  fact 
that  she  cannot  finish  a  single  sentence  without  in- 
troducing the  name  of  some  duke  or  duchess,  there 
is  nothing  particularly  ridiculous  about  her. 

Yet,  criticise  the  entertainment  and  its  authors 
as  you  may,  one  and  all  must  confess  that  rarely 
has  there  been  such  an  opportunity  to  admire  so 
great  a  number  of  beautiful  women,  and  that  the 
most  beautiful  of  all,  the  queen  of  the  evening,  is 
the  Princess  Oblonsky.  Anywhere  else  it  would 
excite  surprise  to  find  her  among  so  many  women 
of  unblemished  reputation;  but  it  is  no  greater 
wonder  to  meet  her  here  than  at  a  public  ball.  Any- 
where else  people  would  probably  stand  aloof  from 
her;  here  they  approach  her  curiously,  as  they 
would  some  theatric  star  whom  they  might  meet 
at  a  picnic  in  an  inn  ball-room. 

Perhaps  her  beauty  would  not  be  so  completely 
victorious  over  that  of  her  sister  women  were  she 
not  the  only  guest  who  has  bestowed  great  pains 
on  her  toilette.  All  the  other  feminine  guests  who 
make  any  pretensions  to  distinction  seem  to  have 


340  ERLACH  COURT. 

entered  into  an  agreement  to  be  as  shabby  as  pos- 
sible. As  it  would  be  hopeless  to  attempt  to  rival 
the  Fane  millions,  they  choose  at  least  to  prove 
that  they  despise  them. 

One  of  the  shabbiest  and  most  rumpled  among 
many  dowdy  gowns  is  that  worn  by  Therese 
Rohritz,  who,  pretty  woman  as  she  is,  looks  down 
with  evident  satisfaction  upon  her  faded  crepe  de 
Chine  draperies,  remarking,  with  a  laugh,  that  she 
had  almost  danced  it  off  last  summer  at  the  balls 
at  the  casino  at  Trouville. 

Her  husband  is  not  quite  pleased  with  such  evi- 
dent neglect  of  her  dress  on  his  wife's  part,  nor  does 
he  at  all  admire  Therese's  careless  way  of  looking 
about  her  through  her  eye-glass  and  laughing  and 
criticising.  He  must  always  be  too  good  an  Aus- 
trian to  be  reconciled  to  what  is  called  chic  in  Paris. 
There  is  the  same  difference  between  his  Austrian 
arrogance  and  Parisian  arrogance  that  there  is 
between  pride  and  impertinence.  He  thinks  it  all 
right  to  hold  aloof  from  a  parvenu,  to  avoid  his 
house  and  his  acquaintance;  but  to  go  to  the 
house  of  the  parvenu,  to  be  entertained  in  his 
apartments,  to  eat  his  ices  and  drink  his  champagne, 
to  pluck  the  flowers  from  his  walls,  and  in  return 
to  ignore  himself  and  to  ridicule  his  entertainment, 
he  does  not  think  right.  But  whenever  he  ex- 
presses his  sentiments  upon  this  point  to  his  wife, 
Therese  answers  him,  half  in  German,  half  in 


THE  FANES'  BALL.  341 

French,  "You  are  quite  right;  but  what  would 
you  have  ?  'tis  the  fashion." 

The  only  person  at  the  ball  who  is  honestly 
ashamed  of  her  modest  toilette  is  Stella,  and  this 
perhaps  because  the  first  object  that  her  eyes  en- 
countered when  she  appeared  with  the  Lipinskis, 
a  little  after  eleven,. was  the  Oblonsky  in  all  her 
brilliant  beauty  and  faultless  elegance.  By  her 

side,  her  white  feather  fan  on  his  knee,  sits 

Edgar  von  Rohritz.  Stella's  heart  stands  still ; 
ah,  yes,  now  she  knows  why  she  has  lost  her 
bracelet.  All  the  tender,  child-like  dreams  that 
stole  smiling  upon  her  soul  at  sight  of  his  flowers 
die  at  once,  and  Stasy's  words  at  the  Cologne 
railway-station  resound  in  her  ears :  "  Yes,  it  is 
ridiculous  to  think  of  rivalling  the  Princess :  when 
she  appears  we  ordinary  women  cease  to  exist." 

"  Yes,  it  is  ridiculous  to  think  of  rivalling  the 
Princess,"  Stella  repeats  to  herself,  "  particularly 
for  such  a  stupid,  awkward,  insignificant  thing  as 
I  am." 

She  cannot  take  her  eyes  off  the  beautiful 
woman.  How  she  smiles  upon  him,  bestowing 
her  attention  upon  him  alone,  while  a  crowd  of 
Parisian  dandies  throng  about  her,  waiting  for  an 
opportunity  to  claim  a  word.  There  is  no  doubt 
in  Stella's  mind  that  he  is  reconciled  with  Sophie 
Oblonsky. 

A   man   will   forgive   a  very   beautiful   woman 

29* 


342  ERLACH  COURT. 

everything,  even  the  evil  which  he  has  heard  of 
her,  nay,  he  may  find  a  mysterious  charm  in  her 
transgressions,  if  she  takes  pains  to  win  his  favour 
with  intelligence,  prudence,  and  the  necessary  de- 
gree of  reserve.  This  piece  of  wisdom  Stella  has 
gained  from  the  French  romances  of  which  she 
has  read  extracts  out  of  pure  ennui  as  they  appear 
daily  in  '  Figaro'  and  the  '  Gaulois.' 

That  a  man  must  find  it  difficult  to  shake  off  an 
old  friend  who  approaches  him  with  imploring  hu- 
mility, that  he  cannot  well  refuse  when  she  re- 
quests him  to  bring  her  an  ice,  and  that  should  she 
hand  him  her  fan  he  cannot  possibly  lay  it  down 
on  a  table  with  a  proudly  forbidding  air  and  then 
take  his  leave  with  a  formal  bow, — all  this  Stella 
never  takes  into  consideration ;  and  this  is  why  she 
is  so  wretchedly  unhappy  as  she  seats  herself  be- 
side Natalie  Lipinski  on  a  plush  ottoman,  near  a 
table  of  flowers. 

A  young  Russian,  a  friend  of  the  Lipinskis, 
begs  Natalie  for  a  waltz,  and  she  takes  his  arm 
and  goes  into  the  adjoining  dancing-room.  Stella 
is  left  alone,  beside  old  Madame  Lipinski,  who  is 
just  getting  ready  to  relate  something  extremely 
entertaining  about  the  Emperor  Nicholas,  when 
Rohritz  suddenly  perceives  Stella.  "With  a  smiling 
remark  he  hands  the  white  feather  fan  to  a  gen- 
tleman standing  beside  him,  and  hastens  towards 
the  young  girl,  paying  his  respects,  of  course,  first 


THE  FANES'  BALL.  343 

to  the  elder  lady,  and  then  to  her.  If  he  has 
reckoned  upon  her  old-time  child-like,  confiding 
smile,  he  is  disappointed.  She  answers  him  stiffly, 
and  thanks  him  for  his  flowers  without  cordiality. 
"How  pale  she  looks!"  he  says  to  himself.  "What 
can  be  the  matter  with  her  ?  Can  she  have  cried 
her  eyes  out  because  she  must  dance  the  cotillon 
to-night  with  me  instead  of  with  Zino  Capito  ?" 

"  'Tis  very  hard  that  poor  Capito  should  be  dis- 
abled just  at  this  time,"  he  remarks. 

"  Yes,  because  the  burden  of  dancing  the  cotil- 
lon with  me  devolves  upon  you,"  Stella  replies, 
betraying,  for  the  first  time  since  he  has  known 
her,  a  degree  of  sensitiveness  that  is  almost  ridicu- 
lous. "  I  am,  of  course,  perfectly  ready  to  release 
you  from  the  obligation." 

"  That  would  be  a  readiness  to  rob  me  of.  a 
pleasure  to  which  I  had  looked  forward  eagerly," 
he  replies,  gravely. 

"You  had  looked  forward  to  it  ?— really  ?"  Stella 
asks,  with  genuine  surprise  in  her  eyes.  "  Really  ?" 
And  she  looks  down  with  a  shake  of  the  head  at 
her  poor  white  dress,  at  her  entire  toilette,  in  which 
nothing  is  absolutely  modern  save  the  long  gloves 
that  reach  to  her  shoulders. 

It  is  rather  remarkable  that  these  gloves  are  the 
only  thing  about  her  with  which  Edgar  Rohritz 
finds  fault. 

"  What  charming  dimples  that  Swedish  kid  must 


344  ERLACH  COURT. 

hide !"  he  says  to  himself.  A  seat  beside  Stella 
hitherto  occupied  by  an  Englishwoman  with  very 
sharp  red  elbows  is  vacated.  Edgar  takes  posses- 
sion of  it. 

"  Yes,  I  had  looked  forward  to  it,"  he  says, 
"  although  I  do  not  dance,  and  you  will  conse- 
quently be  obliged  to  talk  with  me  through  the 
cotillon." 

A  pause  ensues.  She  looks  down ;  involuntarily 
he  does  the  same.  His  eyes  rest  upon  her  foot  that 
peeps  out  beneath  the  hem  of  her  ball-dress.  He 
recalls  how  once,  on  a  meadow  beneath  a  spread- 
ing oak,  kneeling  before  her  he  had  held  that  foot 
in  his  hands.  "What  a  charming,  soft,  warm  little 
foot  it  was !  She  suddenly  perceives  that  he  is 
looking  at  it ;  she  withdraws  it  hastily,  and  with  a 
half-wayward,  half-distressed  air  pulls  her  skirt 
farther  over  her  knee.  Of  course  he  does  not 
smile,  but  he  wants  to.  And  he  could  reproach 
this  girl  for  accidentally  in  the  outline  of  her  feat- 
ures recalling  a  woman  who  from  all  that  he  could 
discover  concerning  her  was  more  to  be  pitied  than 
blamed.  It  was  odious,  cruel ;  more  than  that,  it 
was  stupid ! 

Leaning  towards  her,  and  speaking  more  softly 
than  before,  he  says,  gravely,  "  And  I  hope  that 
during  the  cotillon  you  will  confide  to  me,  as  an 
old  friend,  why  you  look  so  sad  to-night." 

Any  other  girl  would  have  understood  that  these 


THE  FANES'  BALL.  345 

words  from  a  man   of  Edgar's  great  reserve  of 
character  were  to  pave  the  way  for  a  declaration. 

Stella  understands  nothing  of  the  kind. 

"  Why  I  am  so  sad  ?"  she  replies,  simply.  "  Be- 
cause  " 

At  this  moment  Natalie  approaches  on  the  arm 
of  a  blonde  young  man. 

"  Count  Kasin  wishes  to  be  presented  to  you, 
Stella,"  she  says. 

The  young  man  bows,  and  begs  for  a  dance. 
Stella  goes  off  upon  his  arm,  not  because  she  has 
any  desire  to  dance,  but  because  it  would  be  dis- 
graceful for  a  young  girl  to  sit  through  an  entire 
ball. 

"  "Who  is  that  young  lady  ?"  asks  an  Englishman 
of  Edgar's  acquaintance. 

"  She  is  an  Austrian, — Baroness  Stella  Meineck." 

"  Strange  how  like  she  is  to  that  famous  Greuze 
in  the  Louvre, — '  La  Cruche  cassee' !  She  is  charm- 
ing." 

The  words  were  uttered  without  any  thought  of 
evil,  but  nevertheless  Edgar  feels  for  a  moment  as 
if  he  would  like  to  throttle  the  Hon.  Mr.  Harris. 

And  why  is  he  suddenly  reminded  of  the  girl 
whom  he  had  seen  this  afternoon  in  the  twilight 
hurrying  along  the  street  to  vanish  in  the  house 
where  Zino  has  his  apartments?  How  very  like 

she  was  to  Stella ! 

******* 


346  ERLACH  COURT. 

An  hour  has  passed.  Stella  has  walked  through 
two  quadrilles,  has  walked  and  polked  with  various 
partners,  as  well  as  she  could, — that  is,  conscien- 
tiously and  badly,  just  as  she  learned  from  a  dancing- 
master  eight  years  before,  and,  try  as  she  may,  she 
is  conscious  that  she  never  shall  take  any  real 
pleasure  in  this  hopping  and  jumping  about,  Now, 
when  the  rest  are  just  beginning  fairly  to  enjoy  the 
ball,  she  is  tired, — quite  tired.  With  her  last  part- 
ner, a  good-humoured,  gentlemanly  young  Austrian 
diplomatist,  she  has  become  so  dizzy  that  in  the 
midst  of  the  dance  she  has  begged  to  be  taken 
back  to  Madame  Lipinski.  But  Madame  Lipinski 
has  left  her  place ;  some  one  says  she  has  gone 
to  the  conservatory;  and  thither  Stella  and  her 
partner  betake  themselves. 

They  do  not  find  Madame  Lipinski,  but  Stella 
feels  decidedly  better.  The  green,  fragrant  twi- 
light of  the  conservatory  has  a  soothing  effect  upon 
her  nerves.  The  air  is  cool,  compared  with  that  of 
the  ball-room ;  the  roughened  surface  of  the  mosaic 
floor  affords  a  pleasant  change  after  the  slippery 
smoothness  of  the  dancing-room.  Stella  sinks 
wearily  into  an  inviting  low  chair. 

"Are  balls  always  so  terribly  fatiguing?"  she 
asks  her  companion,  with  her  usual  frankness. 

He  bows. 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  be  rude,"  she  hastily  explains, 
"  but  you  must  confess  that  it  is  much  pleasanter  to 


THE  FANES'  BALL,  347 

talk  comfortably  here  than  to  whirl  ahout  in  there," 
— pointing  with  her  fan  in  the  direction  of  the 
dancing-room. 

The  attache,  quite  propitiated,  takes  his  place 
upon  a  low  seat  beside  her,  and  prepares  for  a 
sentimental  flirtation.  To  his  great  surprise,  Stella 
seems  to  have  as  little  enthusiasm  for  flirting  as 
for  dancing. 

"  A  charming  spot !"  he  begins.  "  The  fra- 
grance of  these  orange-blossoms  reminds  me  of 
Nice.  You  have  been  at  Nice,  Baroness  ?" 

"  I  have  been  everywhere,  from  Madrid  to  Con- 
stantinople," Stella  sighs  ;  "  and  I  wish  I  were  at 
home.  My  head  aches  so !" — passing  her  hand 
wearily  across  her  brow. 

"  Shall  I  get  you  an  ice,  or  a  glass  of  lemonade  ?" 
he  asks,  good-naturedly. 

"  I  should  be  much  obliged  to  you,"  Stella  replies. 

"  Hm  !  it  does  not  look  as  if  she  were  very 
anxious  for  a  tete-d.-t£te  with  me,"  he  thinks,  as  he 
leaves  her. 

He  has  gone :  she  is  alone  among  the  fragrant 
flowers  and  the  larged-leaved  plants.  Softened, 
but  distinctly  audible,  the  sound  of  hopping  and 
gliding  feet  reaches  her  ears,  while,  now  sadly 
caressing  and  anon  merrily  careless,  the  strains 
of  a  Strauss  waltz  float  on  the  air.  For  a  while 
she  sits  quite  wearily,  with  hatf-closed  eyes,  think- 
ing of  nothing  save  "  I  hope  the  attache  will  stay 


348  ERLACH  COURT. 

away  a  long  time !"  Mingling  softly  and  tenderly 
with  the  music  she  hears  the  dreamy  murmur  of  a 
miniature  fountain.  Why  is  she  suddenly  reminded 
of  the  melancholy  rush  of  the  Save,  of  the  little 
canoe  hy  the  edge  of  the  black  water  ?  Suddenly 
she  hears  voices  in  her  vicinity,  and,  raising  her 
eyes  to  a  tall,  broad  mirror  opposite,  she  beholds, 
framed  in  by  the  gold-embroidered  hangings  of  a 
heavy  portiere,  a  striking  picture, — the  Princess 
Oblonsky  and  Edgar.  They  are  in  a  little  boudoir 
separated  from  the  conservatory  by  an  open  door. 
Without  stirring,  Stella  watches  the  pair  in  the 
treacherous  mirror.  Edgar  sits  in  a  low  arm-chair, 
his  elbow  on  his  knee,  his  head  propped  on  his 
hand,  and  the  Princess  is  opposite  him.  How 
wonderfully  beautiful  she  is  ! — beautiful  although 
she  is  just  brushing  away  a  tear. 

"It  always  makes  me  so  ugly  to  cry!"  Stella 
thinks,  not  without  bitterness. 

The  Princess's  gloves  and  fan  lie  beside  her;  her 
arms  are  bare.  With  an  expression  of  intense 
melancholy, — an  expression  not  only  apparent  in 
her  face  and  in  the  listless  droop  of  her  arms,  but 
also  seeming  to  be  shared  by  every  fold  of  her 
dress, — she  leans  back  among  the  soft-hued,  rose- 
coloured  and  gray  satin  cushions  of  a  small  lounge. 

"  Strange,  that  we  should  have  met  at  last ! — 
at  last!"  she  sighs.  Stella  cannot  distinguish  his 
reply,  but  she  distinctly  hears  the  Princess  say, 


THE  FANES'  BALL.  349 

"Do  you  remember  that  waltz?  How  often  its 
notes  have  floated  towards  us  upon  the  breath  of 
the  roses  in  the  long  afternoons  at  Baden  !  How 

long  a  time  has  passed  since  then !    How  long " 

A  black  mist  rises  before  Stella's  eyes.  She  puts 
up  her  hands  to  her  ears,  and,  thrilling  from  head 
to  foot,  springs  up  and  hurries  away, — anywhere, 
anywhere, — only  away  from  this  spot, — far  away  ! 

At  the  other  end  of  the  conservatory  she  is  doing 
her  best  to  regain  her  composure  and  to  keep  back 
the  tears,  when  suddenly  she  hears  a  light  manly 
tread  near  her  and  the  clinking  of  glasses. 

"  Ah  !  'tis  Binsky :  he  has  found  me,"  Stella 
thinks,  most  unjustly  provoked  with  the  good- 
humoured  attache. 

"  I  really  believe,  Baroness,  you  are  playing 
hide-and-seek  with  me,"  the  young  diplomatist  ad- 
dresses her  in  a  tone  of  mild  reproof. 

There  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  turn  round.  Beside 
the  attache,  in  all  the  majestic  gravity  of  his  kind, 
stands  a  lackey  with  a  salver,  from  which  she  takes 
a  glass  of  lemonade. 

After  the  servant  has  withdrawn,  Count  Binsky 
says,  with  a  laugh,  "  I  have  been  looking  for  you, 
Baroness,  in  every  corner  of  the  conservatory.  I 
must  confess  to  having  made  interesting  discov- 
eries during  my  wanderings.  Look  here," — and  he 
shows  her  a  white  ostrich-feather  fan  with  yellow 

30 


350  ERLACH  COURT. 

tortoise-shell  sticks  broken  in  two,—"  I  found  this 
relic  in  the  pretty  little  boudoir  near  the  place 
where  I  left  you.  Now,  did  you  ever  see  anything 
so  mutely  eloquent  as  this  broken  fan  ? — the  tragic 
culmination  of  a  highly  dramatic  scene  !  I  should 
like  to  know  what  lady  had  the  desperate  energy 
to  reduce  this  exquisite  trifle  to  such  a  state." 

"  Perhaps  there  is  a  monogram  on  the  fan,"  says 
Stella,  her  pale  face  suddenly  becoming  animated. 
"Look  and  see." 

"To  be  sure.  I  did  not  think  of  that,"  the 
young  man  replies,  examining  the  fan.  "  '  S.  0.' 
beneath  a  coronet." 

"  Sophie  Oblonsky,"  says  Stella. 

"  Of  course, — the  Oblonsky."  The  attache  is 
seized  with  a  fit  of  merriment  on  the  instant. 
"  The  Oblonsky, — the  woman  who  had  an  affair 
with  Rohritz  long  ago.  She  seemed  to  me  this 
evening  to  have  a  strong  desire  to  throw  her  chains 
about  him  afresh,  but" — with  a  significant  glance 
at  the  fan — "  Rohritz  evidently  had  no  inclination 
to  gratify  her.  Hm!  she  must  have  been  in  a 
bad  humour, — the  worthy  Princess  !"  The  attache 
laughs  softly  to  himself,  then  suddenly  assumes  a 
grave,  composed  air,  remembering  that  he  is  with 
a  young  girl,  before  whom  such  things  as  he  has 
alluded  to  should  be  forbidden  subjects  and  his 
merriment  suppressed.  He  glances  at  Stella.  N"o 
need  to  worry  himself;  she  does  not  look  in  the 


FOUND  AT  LAST.  351 

least  horrified :  her  white  teeth  just  show  between 
her  red  lips,  merry  dimples  play  about  the  corners 
of  her  mouth,  and  her  eyes  sparkle  like  black  stars. 

She  really  does  not  understand  how  five  min- 
utes ago  she  could  have  wished  the  poor  attache 
at  the  North  Pole.  She  now  thinks  him  extremely 
amusing  and  amiable.  She  feels  so  well,  too, — so 
very  well.  Is  it  possible  that  there  may  be  no  evil 
omen  for  her  in  the  loss  of  her  bracelet  ?  Never- 
theless, try  as  she  may  to  hope  that  it  may  be 
averted,  a  shiver  of  anxiety  thrills  her  at  the  recol- 
lection of  her  lost  amulet. 

"  If  the  ball  were  only  over !"  she  thinks. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

FOUND   AT   LAST. 

THE  hour  of  rest  before  the  cotillon  has  come; 
the  dancing-room  is  almost  empty.  Only  a  few 
gentlemen  are  selecting  the  places  which  they  wish 
reserved  for  themselves  and  their  partners,  and  a 
couple  of  lackeys  are  clearing  away  from  this  battle- 
field of  pleasure  the  trophies  left  behind,  of  late 
engagements,  shreds  of  tulle  and  tarlatan,  artificial 
and  natural  flowers,  here  and  there  a  torn  glove, 
etc.  Edgar  tells  himself  that  his  hour  has  come, 


352  ERLACH  COURT. 

the  hour  when  he  may  indemnify  himself  for  ennui 
hitherto  so  heroically  endured.  Meanwhile,  he 
goes  to  the  buffet  to  refresh  himself  with  a  glass 
of  iced  champagne,  and  in  hopes  of  finding  Stella. 

The  supper-room  is  in  the  story  helow  the  ball- 
room. The  different  stories  are  connected  by  an 
extremely  picturesque  staircase,  decorated  with 
gorgeous  exotics  and  ending  in  a  vestibule,  or 
rather  an  entrance-hall,  hung  round  with  antique 
Flemish  draperies. 

The  buffet  is  magnificent,  and  the  guests  who  are 
laying  siege  to  it,  especially  the  more  distinguished 
among  them,  are  conducting  themselves  after  a  very 
ill  bred  fashion.  Edgar  perceives  that  several  of 
them  have  taken  rather  too  much  of  Mr.  Fane's 
fine  Cliquot. 

He  looks  around  in  vain  for  Stella.  In  one  cor- 
ner he  observes  the  Oblonsky,  with  bright  eyes  and 
sweet  smiles,  surrounded  by  a  throng  of  languish- 
ing adorers ;  farther  on,  Stasy,  in  pale  blue,  with 
rose-buds  and  diamond  pins  in  her  hair,  in  a  state 
of  bliss  because  an  American  diplomatist  is  hold- 
ing her  gloves  and  a  Russian  prince  her  fan ;  he 
sees  Therese  taking  some  bonbons  for  the  children. 
Stella  is  nowhere  visible.  He  thinks  the  cham- 
pagne poor,  doing  it  great  injustice,  and,  irritated, 
goes  to  the  smoking-room  to  enjoy  a  cigar.  The 
first  man  whom  he  sees  in  the  large  room  is  Mon- 
sieur de  Hauterive.  His  face  is  very  red,  and  he 


FOUND  AT  LAST.  353 

is  relating  something  which  must  be  very  amusing, 
for  he  laughs  loudly  while  he  talks.  The  men 
standing  around  him  do  not  seem  to  enjoy  his 
narrative  as  much  as  he  does  himself.  A  few 
offensive  words  reach  Edgar's  ears : 

"  La  Oruche  casste — Stella  Meineck — an  Austrian 
— these  Viennese  girls — mistress  of  Prince  Capito  ! 
I  have  it  all  from  the  Princess  Oblonsky !" 

"  "Would  you  have  the  kindness  to  repeat  to  me 
what  you  have  just  been  telling  these  gentlemen  ?" 
Rohritz  says,  approaching  the  group  and  with  diffi- 
culty suppressing  manifestation  of  his  anger. 

"  I  really  do  not  know,  monsieur,  by  what  right 
you  interfere  in  a  conversation  about  what  does 
not  concern  you,"  Cabouat  manages  to  reply, 
speaking  thickly.  "  May  I  ask  who " 

Edgar  hands  him  his  card.  The  other  gentlemen 
are  about  to  withdraw,  but  Edgar  says,  "  What  I 
have  to  sav  to  Monsieur  de  Hauterive  all  are 

w 

welcome  to  hear :  the  more  witnesses  I  have  the 
better  I  shall  be  pleased.  I  wish  to  call  him  to 
account  for  a  slander,  as  vile  as  it  is  absurd,  which 
he  has  dared  to  repeat,  with  regard  to  a  young 
lady,  an  intimate  friend  of  my  family.  You  said, 

monsieur " 

"  I  said  what  every  one  knows,  what  ladies  of 
the  highest  rank  will  confirm,  what  the  Princess 
Oblonsky  has  long  been  aware  of,  and  the  proof 
of  which  I  obtained  to-day." 
x  80* 


354  ERLACH  COURT. 

"  Might  I  beg  to  know  in  what  this  said  proof 
consists  ?"  Edgar  asks,  contemptuously. 

Monsieur  de  Hauterive,  with  an  evil  smile  upon 
his  puffy  red  lips,  draws  from  his  vest-pocket  a 
golden  chain  to  which  is  attached  a  crystal  locket 
containing  a  four-leaved  clover. 

With  a  hasty  movement  Edgar  takes  the  trinket 
from  him,  and  searches  for  the  star  engraved  upon 
the  crystal. 

"  You  know  the  bracelet?"  asks  de  Hauterive. 

"  Yes,"  says  Edgar. 

"  I  found  it  on  the  staircase  of  Prince  Capito's 
lodgings.  When  I  rang  the  Prince's  bell  his  ser- 
vant informed  me  that  the  Prince  was  not  at  home. 
As  I  was  perfectly  aware  that  he  had  been  con- 
fined to  a  lounge  for  two  days  with  a  sprained 
ankle,  I  naturally  supposed  that  the  Prince  had 
special  reasons  for  wishing  to  receive  no  one.  What 
conclusion  do  you  draw  ?" 

Edgar's  tongue  is  very  dry  in  his  mouth,  but  he 
instantly  rejoins,  "  My  conclusion  is  that  Mademoi- 
selle de  Meineck,  visiting  a  friend,  a  lady,  who,  as 
I  happen  to  know,  has  lodgings  in  that  house,  lost 
her  bracelet  on  the  landing,  and  that  Prince  Capito 
has  no  desire  to  receive  Monsieur  de  Hauterive." 

"  Your  judgment  strikes  me  as  kind,  rather  than 
acute,"  says  Monsieur  de  Hauterive.  "  Will  you 
kindly  tell  me  the  name  of  the  friend  lodging  in 
Number  — ?"  he  adds,  with  a  sneer. 


FOUND  AT  LAST.  355 

Edgar  is  silent. 

"  I  thought  so  !"  exclaims  de  Hauterive.  "  And 
you  would  debar  me  from  mentioning  what  any 

unprejudiced  person  must  admit,  that "  But 

before  he  can  utter  another  word  his  cheek  burns 
from  a  blow  from  Edgar's  open  palm. 

The  next  moment  Rohritz  leaves  the  srnokins:- 

o 

room,  and  goes  out  into  the  vestibule,  longing  for 
solitude  and  fresh  air. 

There,  among  the  antique  hangings,  the  Aus- 
tralian ferns,  and  the  Italian  magnolias,  among  the 
bronze,  white-toothed  negroes  that  bear  aloft  lamps 
with  ground-glass  shades  shaped  like  huge  flower- 
cups,  he  stands,  the  little  bracelet  in  his  hand.  He 
feels  stunned;  red  and  blue  sparks  dance  before 
his  eyes,  and  his  throat  seems  choked.  He  would 
fain  groan  aloud,  or  dash  his  head  against  the  wall, 
so  great  is  his  distress.  He  cannot  believe  it;  and 
yet  all  a  lover's  jealous  distrust  assails  him.  He  is 
perfectly  aware  that  his  defence  of  Stella  was  piti- 
ably weak,  his  invention  of  a  female  friend  lodging 
in  Number  —  clumsy  enough;  he  knows  that 
everything  combines  to  accuse  her. 

Has  he  been  deceived  for  the  second  time  in 
his  life  ?  Whom  can  he  ever  trust,  if  those  grave, 
dark,  child-like  eyes  have  been  false  ?  And  sud- 
denly in  the  midst  of  his  torment  he  is  possessed 
by  overwhelming  pity. 

"  Poor  child !  poor  child !"  he  says  to  himself. 


356  ERLACH  COURT. 

"Neglected,  dragged  about  the  world,  without  any 
one  to  care  for  her,  fatherless,  and  the  same  as 
motherless!"  Should  he  judge  her?  No,  he  will 
defend  her,  hide  her  fault,  protect  her  from  the 
whole  world.  But  a  stern  voice  within  asks, 
"  What  protection  do  you  mean  ?  "Will  you — dare 
you  ofi'er  her  the  only  thing  that  can  save  her  from 
the  world, — your  hand?"  He  is  tortured.  No,  he 
cannot.  And  yet  how  desperately  he  loves  her ! 
Why  did  he  not  take  her  in  his  arms  when  she 
lay  at  his  feet  in  the  little  skiff,  and  shield  her 
next  his  heart  forever?  He  must  see  her;  an  irre- 
sistible longing 'seizes  him;  yes,  he  must  see  her, 
— insult  her,  mistreat  her,  it  may  be, — but  clasp 
her  in  his  arms  though  he  should  kill  her. 

"  Why  are  you  standing  here,  like  Othello  with 
Desdemona's  handkerchief?"  he  suddenly  hears  his 
brother  ask,  close  beside  him. 

He  starts,  closes  his  fingers  over  the  bracelet, 
and  tries  to  assume  an  indifferent  air. 

"  Where  is  Stella  ?"  inquires  Therese,  who  is 
with  her  husband. 

"  How  should  I  know  ?"  asks  Edgar. 

"  But  some  one  must  know !  some  one  must  find 
her!"  she  exclaims,  in  a  very  bad  humour.  "  The 
Lipinskis  have  gone  home,  and  have  placed  her  in 
my  charge,  and  I  must  wait  until  she  is  found  be- 
fore we  too  can  go  home.  Ah,  do  you  want  to 
dance  the  cotillon  with  her  ?  Pray  find  her,  and 


FOUND  AT  LAST.  357 

as  soon  as  you  have  done  so  we  must  go  home, — 
instantly!  I  do  not  want  to  stay  another  mo- 
ment." And,  in  a  state  of  evident  nervous  agita- 
tion, Therese  suddenly  turns  to  her  husband,  and 
continues,  "  I  cannot  imagine,  Edmund,  how  you 
could  bring  me  to  this  ball !" 

"  That  is  a  little  too  much !"  her  husband  ex- 
claims, angrily.  "  Had  I  the  faintest  desire  to 
come  to  this  ball  ?  Did  I  not  try  for  two  long 
weeks  to  dissuade  you  from  coming  ?  But  you 
had  one  reply  for  all  my  objections  :  '  Marie  de 
Stele  is  going  too.'  Since  you  are  so  determined 
never,  under  any  circumstances,  to  blame  yourself, 
blame  the  Duchess  de  Stele,  not  me." 

"  Marie  de  Stele  could  not  possibly  know  that  a 
Russian  diplomatist  would  bring  that  woman  to  this 
ball  and  present  her  as  his  wife." 

"  Neither  could  I,"  rejoins  her  husband. 

"  A  man  ought  to  know  such  things,"  Therese 
retorts ;  "  but  you  never  know  anything  that  every- 
body else  does  not  know,  you  never  have  an  intui- 
tion ;  although  you  have  been  away  from  your  own 
country  for  fifteen  years,  you  are  the  very  same 
simple-minded  Austrian  that  you  always  were." 

"And  I  am  proud  of  it!"  Edmund  ejaculates, 
angrily. 

"  Be  as  proud  as  you  please,  for  all  I  care,"  says 
Therese,  as,  at  once  angry  and  exhausted,  she  sinks 
into  a  leathern  arm-chair.  "  But  now,  for  heaven's 


358  ERLACH  COURT. 

sake,  find  Stella  Meineck,  that  we  may  get  away  at 
last." 

Edgar  has  already  departed  in  search  of  her.  He 
passes  through  the  long  suite  of  rooms,  for  the  most 
part  empty  because  all  the  guests  are  in  the  dining- 
rooms  at  present. 

"  They  neither  of  them  know  anything  yet,"  he 
says  to  himself,  bitterly,  and  his  heart  beats  wildly 
as  he  thinks,  "  If  she  can  only  explain  it  all !" 

He  searches  for  a  while  in  vain.  At  last  he 
enters  the  conservatory.  A  low  sound  of  sobbing, 
reminding  one  of  some  wounded  animal  who  has 
crept  into  some  .hiding-place  to  die,  falls  upon  his 
ear.  He  hurries  on.  There,  in  the  same  little 
boudoir  where  he  had  lately  been  with  the  Princess 
Oblonsky,  Stella  is  cowering  on  a  divan  in  the 
darkest  corner,  her  face  hidden  in  her  hands,  her 
whole  frame  convulsed  with  sobs. 

"Baroness  Stella!"  he  says,  advancing.  She 
does  not  hear  him.  "  Stella !"  he  says,  more  loudly, 
laying  his  hand  on  her  arm.  She  starts,  drops  her 
hands  in  her  lap,  and  gazes  at  him  with  such  terri- 
ble despair  in  her  eyes  that  for  an  instant  he  trem- 
bles for  her  reason.  He  forgets  everything, — all 
that  has  been  tormenting  him;  his  soul  is  filled 
only  with  anxiety  for  her.  "  What  is  the  matter  ? 
what  distresses  you  ?"  he  asks. 

"  I  cannot  tell  it,"  she  replies,  in  a  voice  so 
hoarse,  so  agonized,  that  he  hardly  knows  it  for 


FOUND  AT  LAST.  359 

hers.  "  It  is  something  horrible, — disgraceful !  It 
was  in  the  dining-room — I  was  sitting  rather  alone, 
when  I  heard  two  gentlemen  talking.  I  caught  my 
own  name,  and  then — and  then — I  would  not  he- 
lieve  it;  I  thought  I  had  not  heard  aright — then  the 
gentlemen  passed  me,  and  one  of  them  looked  at  me 
and  laughed,  and  then — and  then — I  saw  an  Eng- 
lish girl  whom  I  knew  at  the  Britannia,  in  Venice 
— she  was  with  her  mother,  and  she  came  up  to  me 
and  held  out  her  hand  with  a  smile,  but  her  mother 
pulled  her  back, — I  saw  her, — and  she  turned 

away.      And   then    came    Stasy "      Her   eyes 

encounter  Rohritz's.  "Ah!  you  have  heard  it 
too !"  She  moans  and  puts  her  hands  up  to  her 
throbbing  temples.  Her  cheeks  are  scarlet;  she 
is  half  dead  with  shame  and  horror.  "You  too!" 
she  repeats.  "  I  knew  that  something  would  hap- 
pen to  me  at  this  ball  when  I  found  I  had  lost  my 
bracelet  again,  but  I  never — never  thought  it 
would  be  so  horrible  as  this !  Oh,  papa,  papa,  I 
only  hope  you  did  not  hear, — did  not  see;  you 
could  not  rest  peacefully  in  your  grave."  And 
agrain  she  buries  her  face  in  her  hands  and  sobs. 

o 

A  short  pause  ensues. 

"She  is  innocent;  of  course  she  is  innocent," 
an  inward  voice  exclaims  exultantly,  and  Rohritz 
is  overwhelmed  with  remorse  for  having  doubted 
her  for  an  instant.  He  would  fain  fall  down  at 
her  feet  and  kiss  the  hem  of  her  dress. 


360  ERLACH   COURT. 

"  Be  comforted :  your  bracelet  is  found,"  he 
whispers,  softly.  "  Here  it  is  !" 

She  snatches  it  from  him.  "  Ah,  where  did  you 
find  it  ?"  she  asks,  eagerly,  her  eyes  lighting  up  in 
spite  of  her  distress. 

"  I  did  not  find  it.  Monsieur  de  Hauterive  found 
it  on  the  first  landing  of  the  staircase  at  Number 
— ,  Rue  d'Anjou,"  he  sa}7s,  speaking  with  difficulty. 

"  Ah,  I  might  have  known  !  I  must  have  lost  it 
when  I  went  to  see  my  poor  aunt  Correze,  and 
when  I  dropped  my  bundles  on  the  stairs  !"  She  is 
not  in  the  least  embarrassed.  She  evidently  does 
not  even  know 'that  Zino's  lodgings  are  in  the  Rue 
d'Anjou. 

"  Your  aunt  Correze  ?"  asks  Rohritz. 

"  Do  you  not  know  about  my  aunt  Correze  ?" 
she  stammers. 

"Yes,  I  know  who  she  is." 

"  She  was  very  unhappy  in  her  first  marriage," 
Stella  goes  on,  now  in  extreme  confusion,  "  very  un- 
happy, and — and — she  did  not  do  as  she  ought ;  but 
she  married  Correze  four  years  ago, — Correze,  who 
abused  her,  and  who  is  now  giving  concerts  in 
America.  She  recognized  me  in  the  street  from  a 
photograph  of  me  which  papa  sent  her  from  Venice. 
She  was  so  sweet  to  me,  and  yet  so  sad  and  shy, 
and  she  had  her  little  daughter  with  her,  a  beautiful 
child,  very  like  her,  only  with  black  hair.  Papa 
once  begged  me  to  be  kind  to  her  if  I  ever  met  her, 


FOUND  AT  LAST.  361 

for  his  sake.  "What  could  I  do  ?  I  could  not  ask 
her  to  come  to  us,  for  mamma  will  not  hear  her 
mentioned,  and  has  for  years  burned  all  her  letters 
unanswered.  Once  or  twice  I  arranged  a  meeting 
with  her  in  the  Louvre;  then  she  was  taken  ill,  and 
could  not  go  out,  and  wanted  to  see  me.  I  went 
to  see  her  without  letting  mamma  know.  It  was 
not  right,  hut — papa  begged  me  to  be  kind  to 
her "  Her  large,  dark  eyes  look  at  him  help- 
less and  imploring. 

"  Poor  child !  your  kind  heart  was  sorely  tried," 
he  murmurs,  very  gently. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  be  able  to  tell  some  one  all  about 
it,"  she  confesses :  she  has  quite  forgotten  her  ter- 
rible, disgraceful  trial,  in  the  child-like  sensation  of 
delightful  security  with  which  Rohritz  always  in- 
spires her.  The  tears  still  shine  upon  her  cheeks, 
but  her  eyes  are  dry.  She  tries  to  fasten  the  brace- 
let on  her  wrist;  Rohritz  kneels  down  beside  her 
to  help  her;  suddenly  he  possesses  himself  of  the 
bracelet. 

"  Stella,"  he  whispers,  softly  and  very  tenderly, 
"there  is  no  denying  that  you  are  very  careless 
with  your  happiness.  Let  me  keep  it  for  you :  it 
will  be  safer  with  me  than  with  you." 

She  looks  at  him,  without  comprehending;  she 
is  only  aware  of  a  sudden  overwhelming  delight, — 
why,  she  hardl}T  knows. 

"  Stella,  my  darling,  my  treasure,  could  you  con-' 

Q  31 


362  ERLACH  COURT. 

sent  to  marry  me  ? — could  you  learn  to  enjoy  life 
at  my  side  ?" 

"  Learn  to  enjoy  ?"  she  repeats,  with  a  smile  that 
is  instantly  so  deeply  graven  in  his  heart  that  he 
remembers  it  all  his  life  afterwards.  "Learn  to  en- 
joy ?"  She  puts  out  her  hands  towards  him  ;  but 
just  as  he  is  about  to  clasp  her  to  his  heart 
she  withdraws  them,  trembling,  and  turns  pale. 
"  Would  you  marry  a  girl  at  whom  all  Paris  will 
point  a  scornful  finger  to-morrow  ?"  she  sobs. 

"  Point  a  scornful  finger  at  my  betrothed  ?"  he 
cries,  indignantly.  "  Have  no  fear,  Stella;  I  know 
the  world  better  than  you  do :  that  finger  will  be 
pointed  at  the  worthless  woman  whose  wounded 
vanity  invented  the  monstrous  slander.  There  is 
still  some  esprit  de  corps  among  the  angels.  Those 
in  heaven  do  not  permit  evil  to  be  wrought  against 
their  earthly  sisters.  One  kiss,  Stella,  my  star,  my 
sunshine,  my  own  darling." 

For  an  instant  she  hesitates,  then  shyly  touches 
his  temple  with  her  soft  warm  lips. 

"  One  upon  jour  gray  hair,"  she  murmurs. 

They  suddenly  hear  an  approaching  footstep. 
Rohritz  starts  to  his  feet,  but  it  is  only  his  brother, 
who  says,  as  he  advances  towards  them, — 

"  Where  the  deuce  are  you  hiding,  Edgar  ?  My 
wife  is  frantic  with  impatience." 

"  Therese  must  be  merciful,"  Edgar  replies,  with 
a  smile.  "  When  for  once  one  finds  the  flower  of 


FOUND  AT  LAST.  353 

happiness  in  his  pathway,  one  cannot  say,  '  I  have 
no  time  to  pluck  you ;  my  sister-in-law  is  waiting 
forme.'" 

"Aha!"  Edmund  exclaims,  with  a  low  bow. 
"  Hm  !  Therese  will  be  vexed  because  I  was  right, 
and  not  she ;  but  I  rejoice  with  all  my  heart, — not 
because  I  was  right,  but  because  I  could  wish  you 
no  better  fortune  in  this  world." 

******* 

Stella's  betrothal  to  Edgar  is  now  a  week  old. 
Therese  was  vexed  at  first  at  her  own  want  of 
penetration,  but  it  was  an  irritation  soon  soothed. 
She  is  absorbed  in  providing  the  most  exquisite 
trousseau  that  money  and  taste  combined  can  pro- 
cure in  Paris. 

Zino,  too,  was  vexed,  first  that  Stella  should  have 
been  subjected  to  annoyance  on  his  account,  and  in 
the  second  place  because  his  temporary  lameness 
prevented  his  challenging  de  Hauterive.  "  It  was 
tragic  enough  not  to  be  able  to  dance  the  cotillon 
with  our  star,  but  not  to  be  able  to  fight  for  the 
star  is  intolerable." 

Thus  Capito  declares  in  a  long  congratulatory 
epistle  to  Edgar,  adding,  in  a  postscript,  "  The 
ladies  in  whose  honour  certain  pictures  were  turned, 
as  you  lately  observed,  with  their  faces  to  the  wall, 
were  the  Lipinskis,  mother  and  daughter.  I  am 
betrothed  to  Natalie." 

The  Princess  Oblonsky  has  left  Paris  for  Naples ; 


364  ERLACH  COURT. 

the  Fuhrwesen  accompanied  her.  Monsieur  de 
Hauterive  is  said  to  have  followed  her.  Stasy  is 
left  behind  in  Paris,  where  she  meditates  sadly 
upon  the  ingratitude  of  human  nature.  She  is  no 
longer  an  ardent  admirer  of  the  Oblonsky. 

And  the  lovers  ? 

The  scene  is  the  little  drawing-room  with  the 
blue  furniture  and  bright  carpet  at  the  "  Three 
Negroes."  The  Baroness  is  sitting  at  her  Avriting- 
table,  scribbling  away  with  all  her  wonted  energy 
at  something  or  other  which  is  never  to  be  finished; 
the  floor  around  her  is  strewn  with  torn  and  crum- 
pled sheets  of  paper. 

From  without  come  the  sound  of  heavy  and  light 
wheels,  the  echo  of  heavy  and  light  footsteps.  But 
through  all  the  noise  of  the  streets  is  heard  a  dreamy, 
monotonous  murmur,  the  slow  drip  of  melting  snow. 
A  thaw  has  set  in,  and  the  water  is  dripping  from 
the  roofs.  Sometimes  the  Baroness  pauses  in  her 
writing  and  listens.  There  is  something  strangely 
disturbing  to  her  in  the  simple  sound :  she  does  not 
clearly  catch  what  the  water-drops  tell  her ;  she  no 
longer  understands  their  speech. 

Beside  the  fire  sit  Edgar  and  Stella.  His  left  arm 
is  in  a  sling.  In  the  duel  with  small-swords  which 
took  place  a  couple  of  days  after  the  Fanes'  ball 
he  received  a  slight  wound.  Therefore  there  is  an 
admixture  of  grateful  pity  in  Stella's  tenderness  for 
him.  They  are  sitting,  hand  clasped  in  hand,  de- 


FOUND  AT  LAST.  335 

vising  schemes  and  building  airy  castles  for  the 
future, — the  long,  fair  future. 

"  One  question  more,  my  darling,"  Rohritz  whis- 
pers to  his  beautiful  betrothed,  who  still  conducts 
herself  rather  shyly  towards  him.  "  How  do  you 
mean  to  arrange  your  life  ?" 

"  How  do  I  mean — have  I  any  decision  to 
make  ?" 

"Indeed  you  have,  dearest,"  he  says,  smiling. 
"  My  part  in  life  is  to  see  you  happy." 

"  How  good  and  dear  you  are  to  me  !"  Stella 
murmurs.  "  How  could  you  torment  me  so  long, 
— so  long?" 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  was  happy  the  while,  dear 
love?"  he  whispers.  Her  reproach  touches  him 
more  nearly  than  she  thinks.  How  could  he  hesi- 
tate so  long,  is  the  question  he  now  puts  to  himself. 
What  has  he  to  offer  her,  he  with  his  weary, 
doubting  heart,  in  exchange  for  her  pure,  fresh, 
untouched  wealth  of  feeling?  "But  to  return 
to  my  question,"  he  begins  afresh.  "  Will  you 
live  eight  months  in  society  and  four  months  in 
the  country? — or  just  the  other  way?" 

"  Just  the  other  way,  if  I  may." 

"  Jack  Leskjewitsch  wrote  me  at  the  close  of  his 
note  of  congratulation — the  most  cordial  of  any 
which  I  have  had  yet — that  his  wife  wishes  to  sell 
Erlach  Court,  and  thus  deprive  him  of  all  tempta- 
tion to  retire  for  a  second  time  to  that  Capua  from 

81* 


366  ERLACH  COURT. 

a  military  life.  Shall  I  buy  Erlach  Court  for  you, 
Stella, — for  you  ? — for  your  special  property  ?" 

"It  would  be  delightful,"  she  murmurs. 

"  Let  us  be  married,  then,  here  in  Paris  at  the 
embassy,  and  meanwhile  have  everything  in  readi- 
ness for  us  at  Erlach  Court.  We  can  then  make  a 
tour  through  southern  France  to  our  home  for  our 
wedding  journey." 

But  Stella  shakes  her  head :  "  No,  our  wedding 
journey  must  be  to  Zalow,  to  visit  papa's  grave. 
You  see,  when  he  gave  me  the  four-leaved  clover 
that  you  have  round  your  neck  now  he  said,  '  And 
if  ever  Heaven  sends  you  some  great  joy,  say  to 
yourself  that  your  poor  father  prayed  the  dear  God 
that  it  might  fall  to  your  share !'  So  I  must  go  to 
him  first  to  thank  him  :  do  you  not  see  ?" 

Edgar  nods.  Then,  looking  at  the  girl  almost 
mournfully,  he  says, — 

"  Is  the  joy  really  so  great,  my  darling?" 

She  makes  no  reply  in  words,  but  gently,  almost 
timidly,  she  puts  her  rounded  arm  about  him  and 
leans  her  head  on  his  breast. 

Meanwhile,  the  Baroness  looks  round.  'Tis 
strange  how  the  monotonous  melody  of  the  falling 
water-drops  interferes  with  her  work.  A  kind  of 
wondering  melancholy  possesses  her  at  sight  of  the 
lovers :  she  turns  away  her  head  and  lays  her  pen 

aside. 

******* 


FOUND  AT  LAST.  367 

"  The  world  was  all  before  them  where  to  choose 
their  place  of  rest,  and  Providence  their  guide," 
she  murmurs  to  herself.  "  'Tis  strange  how  well 
the  words  suit  the  beginning  of  every  young  mar- 
riage. And  yet  they  are  the  last  words  of  '  Para- 
dise Lost.' " 


THE    END. 


Mason's  library 

1«v' 
.  Street 


PRINTED  BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


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Diamond  Edition.     Complete  in  14  volumes.    Square  iSmo. 

Cloth,  per  set,  $10.00.     Paper,  per  volume,  35  cents. 

Same  in  7  volumes,  cloth,  $7.50. 
People's  Edition.     15  volumes.     I2mo,  cloth,  $15.00. 


"DUCHESS"  NOVELS. 

l6mo,  uniform   style, 
Paper,  25  cents. 

Phyllis. 

Molly  Bawn. 

Airy  Fairy  Lilian. 

Beauty's  Daughters. 

Faith  and  Unfaith. 

Doris. 

"O  Tender  Dolores." 

A  Maiden  All  Forlorn 

In  Durance  Vile. 

The  Duchess. 

Marvel. 

Jerry,  and  other  Stories. 


half  cloth,  per  volume,  50  cents. 

Mrs.  Geoffrey. 

Pertia. 

Loys,    Lord    Berresford,    and 

other  Stories. 
Rossmoyne. 
A  Mental  Struggle. 
Lady  Valworth's  Diamonds. 
Lady  Branksmere. 
A  Modern  Circe. 
The   Honourable   Mrs.  Ver- 

eker. 
Under-Currents. 


"  In  all  her  stories  the  '  Duchess'  shows  the  same  excellent  qualities.  She 
b  bright,  spirited,  vivacious,  and  invents  a  dramatic  situation  capitally.  She 
begins  at  you  with  so  much  dash  and  sparkle  that  you  find  yourself  in  quite  a 
glow  at  having  found  a  genius." — Jcrwa  Gate  City. 


